


The Magician’s Apprentice Exchanged Cups with an Oni

by kizin



Series: The Magician’s Apprentice [1]
Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Danmaku (Touhou), F/M, Falling In Love, First Love, Human/Monster Romance, Idiots in Love, Interspecies Relationship(s), Interspecies Romance, Koumakan | Scarlet Devil Mansion, Magic, Magic-Users, POV Female Character, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, POV Third Person, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, Supernatural Elements, Touhou Koumakyou: the Embodiment of Scarlet Devil, Touhou Suimusou: Immaterial and Missing Power, Touhou Youyoumu: Perfect Cherry Blossom, Youkai
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 176,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28070256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kizin/pseuds/kizin
Summary: Ongoing. On July 16th, 2003, an outsider is given kindling for his latent interest in magic in the library of the great magician, Patchouli Knowledge. Upon earning his keep, his journey and web of connections begin.Link to latest update:Chapter 11: Hanami
Relationships: Ibuki Suika/Original Male Character(s)
Series: The Magician’s Apprentice [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2192271
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	1. The Library and the Devil

**Author's Note:**

> **Chapter Index.**  
> (1).(2).(3).(4).(5).(6).(7).(8).(9).(10).(11)
> 
>  **^ _Only for use if viewing as "Entire Work"._** _Otherwise this does nothing._

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awaken to dust and firelight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.1**  
>  [A1].[B1].[C1].[D1].[E1]
> 
>  _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._  
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to <https://www.touhou-project.com/> Be wary of **spoilers.**

++++++++

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Anchor: A1

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1256892)

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He awoke from a terrible and strange dream.

Followed by death, running from clouds of blood, and finding fantastic lights to guide him toward a crimson moon.

At the end, he was pretty sure he’d died.

But it was just a dream and now he was awake. However, there was an uncanny feeling gripping him which he simply could not shake.

Aside from that: physically, he now felt something similar to a blanket of weakened fire, enough to notice your being warmed but nothing too threatening all the same. It matched well with the scent of tea and dust in the air. Dust was actually _thick_ in the air, apparently; it tickled his ears as it settled on his still body. The one neglected feeling was sound. Even a taste of iron lingered in his mouth, but wherever he currently was was—

_Flip._

Not soundless.

“If you’re going to open your eyes,” spoke a vaguely raspy, feminine voice, “then look up.”

He opened his eyes while looking up. “Up” seemed limitless. He was certain he was indoors, but the ceiling of this place gave an impression of the cosmos. Actually, _was_ it the cosmos? Space, inside? There weren’t any stars... perhaps.

“Close your eyes.”

He did.

... A faint whining noise could be heard.

“Do you hear that?”

“Yes. Am I naked?”

He felt naked.

“You aren’t naked.” There was a _clink_ of cup to plate. “Do you want to be naked?”

“No?”

“Why are you asking? You don’t answer questions with questions.”

“Does that count?”

“‘Why are you asking?’”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“No?”

“If you want to keep your ears—” he heard a page turning “—you’ll use them to listen to me. I would recommend listening to me in general, if you’d like to be worth anything.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Now look to the right.”

Fairly certain at this point that he was dreaming, the young man decided to look to the left.

“Was that malfunction or defiance?”

She didn’t seem to want an answer from her tone, so the young man said nothing, closed his eyes once more, and returned his head to a neutral position.

“Remi’s mist shouldn’t have changed a human’s sense of direction like _that_.”

“Who?”

“Who is Remilia Scarlet? A question that rates lower than this tea.

However, like this awful tea, it hasn’t been long since Remi got here.

One could say it’s expected to not know the Mistress of Scarlet Devil Mansion.

So the question rates higher than this tea.”

He opened his eyes again.

“Remilia Scarlet... is my dear friend and the owner of this, the Scarlet Devil Mansion. The red mist you swallowed was hers. I didn’t tell you to look anywhere else.”

“What reason do you have to keep drinking tea that’s awful?”

“Our cat is trying something different for a special occasion. If she’s listening, I want her to know how poor it is. Although, I’m sure she’d make tea bad on purpose if she knew it would bother me or Remi.”

Cat?

“But you don’t have to drink it.”

“Itou Gen,” said the girl, “you can learn nothing if you do nothing.”

Across the clothed-table lit with two candles and topped with book-towers sat the woman he was speaking with. In spite of her sharp and biting tone, this woman, visually, gave off an overwhelming feeling of softness. She seemed to be dressed in somewhat fanciful sleepwear, furthermore a strange puffy hat atop her head decorated with a crescent moon, and pink cloth shoes were on her feet and adorned with bows of various colors. In fact, much of her person was adorned with bows, including her obscene length of hair. Like the rest of her, her hair was colored as if with bright pastels. Violet, same as her eyes which now blankly looked at the young man, named Gen, as he looked at her.

“I am Patchouli Knowledge, a magician.”

“And you seem to know that I’m Itou Gen, a college student.”

“I try to know, in general. If I want to learn about it, I’ll make sure that I do.”

“I’m flattered you wanted to learn about me.”

“You’re mistaken. Your wallet was found by our cat when she changed you and she rudely told me your name. Your name is a very useless bit of trivia.”

Gen realized he was not wearing the clothes he had worn yesterday (now, he looked like a medieval, Western farmhand), and that this and last night were _probably_ not dreams. Perhaps his hobby of wandering bitten him badly...?

Patchouli Knowledge closed her eyes and plainly announced: “Itou Gen, on a scale of usefulness, knowing your name would be twenty out of forty-three quintillion, two hundred fifty-two quadrillion, three trillion, two hundred seventy-four billion, four hundred eighty-nine million, eight hundred fifty-six thousand.”

“You don’t pull punches.”

“That was a sentence. Do you feel lightheaded?”

“I don’t.”

“I’m going to test you quite a lot before dinnertime. While we probably won’t use the red mist again, it’s good to know exactly what effect it has on humans.”

Patchouli began writing something down in another book. Gen allowed himself to look around the room some more, discovering that this was in fact a library: a really, very, absurdly large one.

“Miss Patchouli... when you say you’re a magician, you don’t mean you perform tricks do you?”

“I know sleight of hand, but can’t really do it.”

“A magician who can’t do sleight of hand...”

“Ahh, what am I doing? I should give up.”

Gen smirked.

“I’m a magician and was born that way. Interrupt me any more and I’ll turn you into charcoal.”

Gen pursed his lips and wore a strained and quizzical expression.

“May I ask some more serious questions?” he said.

“Fine,” she replied.

The answer was fast; much faster than he was expecting. Something about it, and how she seemed to be taking notes without paying him any mind, gave him an important impression: Patchouli Knowledge did not like wasting time.

“Where am I?”

“Generic...”

“I’d call it obvious, rather. Can you tell me?”

“If we’re being exact you’re in six places right now. Would you like to know them all?”

“...”

Gen was beside himself with this statement. He had lifted his hand and positioned himself in a pose reminiscent of The Thinker. He gazed upon Patchouli with eyes at once full of bewilderment and fascination. He was like this for more than a few moments, before settling on answering—

“Tell me the third place.”

“Beside Misty Lake.”

“Then... the fifth.”

“It’s called Japan, Nippon, or Nihon depending.”

“Sixth?”

“This is my interpretation.” Here, Patchouli lifted her eyes and gave Gen a smile indicating she was quietly pleased with herself. “Ordinarily, Japan is considered a part of the Asian continent, but anyone could tell you that it’s an island nation. I don’t see why you’d count it, and its land mass is certainly not large enough to be considered its _own_ continent. In short, the sixth place is Earth.”

“I think I get it. Then the second place is the Scarlet Devil Mansion.”

“Correct.” Here, she returned her attention to her notes.

“The first is this library...”

“I haven’t named it anything particularly special.”

“The fourth is the answer I was looking for.”

“Gensokyo.”

Gen frowned and lowered his brow.

“Gensokyo,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she answered.

“I don’t imagine that’s written with the ‘Gen’ from my name.”

“I refused to read your name; I don’t know how it’s written.”

“Like ‘boy’.”

“Quiet.”

“Then it’s ‘Gensokyo’ written with the ‘gen’ for illusions?”

“Yes.”

“... Am I dreaming?”

“That’s a question with a lot of weight to it; if things go well for you, save it for another day.”

With this, the magician closed her notebook and stood up. She looked at Gen for a little while, and then seemed to glide to a bookshelf.

“I have something to do,” she said. “Until I return, read this.”

She had taken a large book from its shelf while speaking and came to stand before Gen, placing it on the table in front of him.

“What’s this?”

A fair question. The book had no title or indeed any manner of identification on its covers or spine.

“I greatly suggest you read it thoroughly. I also suggest you drink your tea before it gets cold. Goodbye.”

She left.

He watched her trudge into the darkness between the aisles of the library, and after some time heard a distant, but surely large door opening and closing. He returned his attention to the table, the book, and the tea set out for him he had only noticed due to Patchouli’s advice.

The book first. He opened it to three blank pages and a very ancient scent. On the fourth page he found words – English words; mercifully a honed skill of his. They were: “Firstly to the aspirant with willingness to become a practitioner of the art, sorcery, magic, or how it is called the strange and mystical forces which run a course through the earth and the air and the body and mind: your magic is never enough, and there is always a means to improve it.”

“‘You will learn magic,’” Gen muttered, “‘you will learn your magic is weak, and you will be better.’”

He gripped the handle of his teacup and brought it to his lips while turning the page. He took a sip, and shortly spat it out.

~~

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Anchor: B1

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2887516)

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Unknown to many along with being a wanderer Itou Gen was often a dreamer. He had more than passing interest in the occult, and at times had even practiced magic – to no avail, of course. It had never been terribly wild, either: charms, wishes, and bids for control of the classical elements. He never honestly practiced for anything more than curiosity and meditation. However Itou Gen was a dreamer, and so within him there was a spark, and this tome turned out to be for him a healthy grip of kindling.

When Patchouli Knowledge returned, the young man she’d decided to observe was slouched over the book she’d given him and a third of the way through it. Truly his posture was deplorable: he had a hand in his hair, an elbow on a handkerchief, and a whole arm bent and resting on the table. To be certain, the lad was absorbed.

The magician spoke before waiting for him to realize her presence.

“Have you learned anything?”

“—! You’re back!”

“Answer at once.”

Gen, who had nearly fallen out of his chair, turned his entire body to face his observer, readjusting his peasant-clothing in the process. Patchouli’s returning gaze was at once full of disinterest and pity.

“Yeah, I guess I have.”

“Slow.”

“Hm?”

“Is that all you have to say, not even at once? For various reasons, I’d classify you as slow.”

“Sorry.”

Patchouli huffed lightly and went back to her seat across from the college student. She looked at her teacup for a moment, and then looked at his. She smirked, then spoke.

“You didn’t enjoy Sakuya’s tea?”

“That the cat’s name?”

“Yes. But that aside, I feel you must have learned more from that book than what would warrant an ‘I guess’.” Patchouli reached across the table and took the grimoire, lightly adding, “It’s a good book after all.”

Gen had taken to slovenly placing _both_ his elbows on the table, leaning forward with his fingers interlocked before his face. He stared at the magician, who fondly paged through her book, and thought _Of course I’ve learned more_. By his internal clock’s measure, Patchouli had left him in the library for about an hour, and though he found the tome fascinating (it really _was_ a good book) he hadn’t spent all that time poring over it. Frankly, by all of this he was subtly perturbed, and had many, many questions.

His guess was that he’d come to “The Land of Illusions” (Gensokyo), seemingly by accident, but apparently nothing in it was illusory. Thus he knew: this world was quite dangerous. He hadn’t neglected to notice: he was currently in a mansion that was home to a devil master, the same master who had created the mist that had nearly killed him during his not-dream. Patchouli had also, perhaps subtly, suggested that he was not necessarily long for this world. Although he could speak with her calmly, he understood that his current standing was on about the same level as a lab rat. To be true, he felt it was probably _less_.

Why Patchouli wanted him to learn magic was a mystery, but having been shaken out of his reading by her return he remembered the sense of danger he had considered for some minutes earlier. Taking a serious tone, he spoke up.

“You know... I remembered earlier, I’d actually collapsed outside your mansion, and just before I did I’d honestly thought ‘I’m going to die’.”

Patchouli stopped paging through her book and looked at Gen dully.

“What are you bringing that up for all of a sudden?” she asked.

“Because I still feel like I’m gonna die.”

“Humans always die. It’s your nature as humans.”

“More specifically, I’m worried something will kill me.”

“Hm.”

The lad put one hand down and straightened his back a bit.

“Patchouli Knowledge,” he said, “why do you want me to learn magic?”

“You’ve been thinking a lot, boy-‘Gen’.”

She smiled at him, not altogether pleasantly.

“I don’t imagine you intend to make me your student,” he said.

“I’m a researcher, not an instructor,” she replied.

“Then what opportunity do you see in me?”

“I’m impressed. You’re starting to understand me despite us being acquainted for less than a pair of hours.”

Gen frowned. She continued.

“I mentioned before that it hadn’t been long since my friend arrived in Gensokyo. You’ve probably figured out that I arrived no sooner or later. Despite having researched this land extensively before we moved, there are many things about it that I don’t _know_.”

Here Patchouli took a sip from her... tea? Apparently she had a new cup, if the steam rising from it was any indication. Gen did as well. The boy was tempted to ask about it, but the magician moved on.

“Did you know? Shortly after we arrived here there was a sea change in Gensokyo. Remi was going a little wild, so the Shrine Maiden declared new laws of the land to stay her, as well as better maintain this realm’s fragile existence. What Remi did last night was provoke the Shrine Maiden to action, creating a situation where she had to enforce her new rules.”

Gen chimed in, saying: “What rules are these?”

“Putting it plainly, they’re rules forbidding death and harm. Conflict in this world is now settled with grace and beauty rather than violence.”

Patchouli set down her cup, and finished saying—

“However, these rules don’t apply to human outsiders.”

Itou Gen’s lips quivered and his mouth turned up at its corners. Slowly, he covered it with his palm, and laid his fingers on his face. Thumb on one cheek, three more fingers on the other, and a pointer cross his nose bridge. He looked Patchouli Knowledge in her eyes, and spoke with a desperation to hide the fluttering in his chest.

“... You never answered my first questions.”

Patchouli was smiling as she delivered her response.

“I was getting to that. You see, I’m in luck. Remi and I also came from your world, but in it we were bound by its laws. For a brief, exciting moment, our arrival in Gensokyo meant a chance that I could do as I wished to who I wished without any trouble.” She chuckled, her voice a bit more hoarse than before and thus sounding like a cough. Finally, she said: “Human experimentation.”

“Right. Human experimentation. That’s what I’d figured.” Gen began cyclically, rhythmically, tapping his fingers on the tablecloth. “But Miss Patchouli, I can’t say you strike me as the mad scientist type.”

“I probably won’t do anything classless, but you may not survive.”

“So you want me to learn magic because...?”

“I want to see if an outsider, ordinarily incapable of such feats, can do so here.” Patchouli took one of her books from the table and opened it to a remembered place. “And of course how strong they are.” She stood up. The hairs on the back of Gen’s neck stood up as well.

“I really am lucky,” the magician continued, not bothering to contain her grin, “Remi may have just drained you of your blood had she not decided to visit the shrine today. So soon after things changed drastically in Gensokyo, an opportunity presents itself.”

“... Miss Patchouli,” Gen ventured, “... you weren’t wrong, I learned more from that book than would warrant an ‘I guess’.”

“... The satisfaction from having a correct theory: it’s like a bite of cake.”

“Don’t be too pleased. I’ll disappoint you soon enough.”

Where Patchouli stood now, a candle stood between her and Gen. He stared at her through its gentle flame, and forgot to breathe. Holding his eyes closed for a moment, he gathered composure and spoke again.

“But hey, you might be surprised.”

Out from Gen’s lips crawled an archaic whisper in a lost tongue, and the flame of the candle between him and his captor curled into a spiral. It lurched back, and Patchouli smiled lightly as it flung forward, aimed at her nose.

She stepped aside and dodged it effortlessly, casting a smug and satisfied look at Gen as it flew past her ear. However Gen remained locked with her eyes without changing his expression, whispering again.

At once the dancing flame began to orbit rapidly around the magician, keeping her in place before suddenly pausing at her chest. The woman glared, and the flame erupted like a firecracker with a _Pah!_

Patchouli flew back quite a ways to avoid the sparks and embers, which tried in vain to follow her and died off in weak, twisted contrails and wisps. Gen stood slowly from the table, one hand on it so as to keep him still.

And Patchouli, again, looked satisfied. She huffed with excitement and a light wheeze decorated her voice when she spoke.

“This is great,” she breathed. “Not only is an outsider capable of the arts, so shortly after the spell card rules were set—” she lifted the book she had picked up out in front of herself, and offered Gen a wicked smile “—I can freely ignore them.”

Patchouli began to speak darkly, her incantations precise as opposed to Gen’s mumbling, and her words most definitely practiced and confident. Above her book’s pages, a plate-sized glyph materialized and glowed, and out of it licked eager fires, winding up her arm and gathering in the air above and behind her. The resulting amalgamation burned, and roared.

“Fire was it?” Patchouli cried in a louder voice. “In the West we have an old and common saying: ‘fight fire with fire’. I will invoke that sentiment now, and you ought to count yourself privileged—” the flames were becoming... ornate? “—you shall bear witness to the strongest unbridled flames Gensokyo will see in so many years, the fires that once started and shaped the world!”

The gathering flames had become something akin to a small sun, surrounded by what looked like a searing nebula that swirled around it menacingly. There was no comparison between the strengths of sorcery. To the simple and curious college boy, Patchouli Knowledge was a truly unimaginable magician.

“I hope you prepared well, Itou Gen! I will hold nothing back!”

Swiping the nearest candle from the table by its wax, Itou Gen fled, flames converging where he had been and crashing together like a violent sea. They turned and turned until they became a tall vortex of fire, swaying like a living being and reaching for the young man as he dashed behind bookshelves.

“I’ve yet to figure out how to make this sorcery into a spell card, but I can tell you all about it! While it mimics the sun this is no more than the classic element of fire! An Eastern variety. I have to admit I find Eastern magic to be rather fascinating!”

Itou Gen now hid behind a shelf different from that which he’d originally fled to, and he wasn’t listening very well to Patchouli’s musings. Gen had felt this was one possible outcome of his being “tested” by Patchouli. The book had equipped him with knowledge of simple offensive magic, after all, and in truth from it he had begun to understand three classic elements. Fire wasn’t the only one available to him at the moment, but after Patchouli’s declarations, he felt it wouldn’t be much in the spirit of things to call on air in this battle of flames. At any rate he was now in a duel, possibly to his death, with an absurdly powerful magician, and while he was terribly compelled to simply stand witness to the girl’s powers he knew that wouldn’t be the best of ideas. Itou Gen had to win, but unfortunately he couldn’t conceive any conditions of victory.

His magic couldn’t kill her and even if it could it wasn’t like murdering a person was something he wanted to do. It was also very unlikely that his magic could even incapacitate her. And just to kick him while he was down: his attacks had a very limited range, and he had gotten the distinct impression that Patchouli could fly.

Swallowing, Gen decided to give away his position in exchange for clarity.

“That’s fascinating, Miss Patchouli, really and honestly, but I have an important question. How does this end? With your discretion, my death, or some sort of victory on my part?”

Immediately after he finished speaking, he could hear flames coming from ‘round a corner. They flooded into the aisle like an unset river, eliciting the thought _Is this fire or water?_ from Gen as he fled once more. Flame reached between his legs, fire shot over his shoulder, and a piece of his sleeve was burned away. This was simply terrifying.

“I will keep this up until you die,” crowed Patchouli, “but I’ll give you one exit: if you can manage five hits on me with your attacks, I will stop. Don’t bother trying to escape, there’s a barrier before the door.”

“ _Five_ ,” whispered Gen as he dove under a table and fire soared overheard. He wasn’t even sure if he could pull five fires from a single candle! Hiding beneath this table, with candle melting in-hand, Itou Gen thought on his situation and environs, and he thought on them deeply.

~~

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[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1695374)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VWQ6JfbU8o08> ]  
[Locked Girl ~ Burst Of The Flastration – The Best of Toho Tempest (Sonic Hybrid Orchestra)]

Patchouli honestly wasn’t entirely sure where everything was in her library. The mansion’s head maid liked to fiddle with its space and dimensions partially for small joys but mainly to get under the magician’s skin. Most of what that maid did was for such express, malicious purpose. But, she _was_ a good maid.

However, with a hide-happy opponent like Itou Gen, and no firmly established conditions for a duel, Sakuya’s spatial manipulation actually put the master of the library at quite a disadvantage. Her not quite knowing her own area’s layout paired with a general lack of awareness on her part perhaps evened out this match more than one would think from a cursory evaluation.

Itou Gen did not want to die, and since he seemed fairly intelligent she wagered he wouldn’t try anything that would obviously get him killed. He would not face her head on, but instead try to fool her and land a sneaked blow. So, in the first place Patchouli would rise into the air and not move. She would create a fortress of magic where their fight had begun and wait for him to come to her, whereupon she would probably reduce him to ashes.

A few minutes had passed since then, and her first spell was dying down. Thus, she turned a page in her book and readied herself to incant the next one.

_Pah!_

Before she could speak, she heard a small, popping explosion from behind an aisle. She prepared to send her fire there when behind her another _Pah!_ resounded. Another, and another came, from all around the library.

“Mu...” she mumbled with a tired face, “kyuu... I already don’t know where you are, Itou Gen. What’s the point in—? Hm?”

A strange burning scent was rising up from somewhere.

“Burning...? You...”

It didn’t quite smell like paper set aflame but not all of these books were in the best condition. If he’d put fire to one that carried a mold or mildew...

“... Earlier last night a small and loathsome human threatened to snatch away some of my books. But... theft is recoverable, boy-Gen. If you’re burning one of my books—” Patchouli turned to a different page in her grimoire, “—I’ll burn you away so thoroughly not even the Yama could put back together the blackened cinders that were once your soul.”

She bellowed another incantation. This one caused orange and red to ooze out from another risen seal, falling to the floor and beginning to snake and hop across it. The fires grew until they resembled animate ropes, and then ancient vines, and last serpentine, Eastern dragons. Patchouli called them to answer, and set them out to dance and kill whatever still breathed in her library’s halls.

And when the last darted out of sight, she realized there was warmth behind her neck. Curious, she looked there and found a small orb of fire that dove into her breasts.

“—!?”

She dropped as the orb burst harmlessly against her chest, singeing her clothing. As she fell she felt warmth at her neck again and swatted at it as if it were a gnat. In response, the orb circled her twice and stopped in front of her before flying at her stomach and torching her clothes there as well.

Patchouli soon reached the ground, landing softly but angrily. She turned about expecting to find Gen there, realizing only then that the lad had set two more magics in wait at the floor, which leapt at her without pause. She awkwardly stumbled ahead and tripped over herself, dodging the small bullets but smacking her nose on the carpet below. While she attempted to recover, the spheres did a roundabout in the air and aimed for her rear, marking two more successful hits.

Patchouli rose on one knee, still gripping her tome and now rather cross. She would have to cast another spell or retrieve her dragons—

Before her, Gen was emerging from beneath the table where they had previously conversed, having taken refuge behind the tablecloth. He cast aside a spent candle and reached for the one which remained atop his hiding place. He ran toward her, and began to incant.

And without a second thought, Patchouli drew from her sleeve a slip of paper. Gen drew near.

“Fire Sign—!”

“Rugiet!”

And each completed their spell at once.

“‘Agni Shine High Level’!”

“Ignis!”

The paper was burned and Gen’s candle heeded his call. An avalanche of fire erupted from Patchouli’s slip and began to spin out from her, while the flame of Gen’s candled lunged forward. The heat of Patchouli’s sorcery threatened to incinerate every hair on Gen’s body before swallowing the body itself, but before any of Patchouli’s boulders of flame could strike him, his spell shot out toward her hat, knocked it off, and then flicked the greater magician in her forehead.

And,

just like that,

all fires quieted.

Gen was frozen in his last pose, his candle thrust out in front of him like it was a crucifix and she a vampire. He wasn’t breathing particularly heavily, but his heart was causing chaos in his chest. _That could have gone really badly for me_ , he thought, and yes, it could’ve. The fear of death and his opponent’s self-assurance had opened up a path to survival.

Patchouli looked at her opponent with involuntary tears in her eyes. The final flame had stung, and this ridiculous loss did something to sting her pride as well. Eventually she was the one to break their silence with a fact.

“Had that been a duel under the new system, you would have been disqualified.”

“A-And...” stuttered Gen, “and your spells? There’d be nothing wrong with using _them_?”

“I could’ve made it work, but underhanded spells that prey on opponent’s blind spots are truly unsportsmanlike.”

Gen put out his candle and let it fall to the floor, crouching to one knee like Patchouli (who kept talking).

“The new rules are about putting everything you have out for your enemy to see and letting them contend with it in its entirety. The basis is respect.”

Gen reached behind the magician and retrieved her hat, dusting it off.

“Well I’m sorry,” he said, offering her the toppled accessory, “when you tell a human you’re going to kill them, this is what happens. By the way, what I burned earlier was the contents of our teacups; please don’t make me into cinders.”

Patchouli took her hat and fixed it atop her head. She then stood, and Gen stood too.

“So what happens now?” he continued. “You let me go? You kill me anyway? Keep testing me?”

“What do you want to happen?”

“Huh?”

“What do you want to happen now?” she repeated.

Gen stared at the magician blankly for some seconds before settling on the answer:

“I want to live, obviously.

I just don’t know how much of a choice I have here.”

“Well then, shall we ask your fate?”

Gen looked to his right, Patchouli to her left. Gen looked incredulous, Patchouli fed up. Beside them, someone new had spoken: a very-composed, apparently happy maid who had suddenly appeared. Or, she seemed to be a maid. Her skirt was rather short...

“Who?” said Gen.

The maid continued speaking as if Gen had said nothing.

“Come, let’s see the Mistress. I don’t think it would be right to decide what to do with a guest of the house without first consulting its master, even if it’s you Lady Patchouli.”

“Remi’s back? ... Fine, you can tell Remi what you want to happen, Sir Gen.”

Patchouli started walking, the maid following after her. Slow on the uptake, Gen was the last to move. And so they left the great library, and entered Scarlet Devil Mansion proper.

~~

* * *

Anchor: D1

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/624338).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2837399)

* * *

The mansion of the devil was certainly dark... that was Gen’s overwhelming opinion of the fanciful western home. There was nothing to let light in along the walls and very little else to create the stuff along them either. Frankly, it was an unnerving place, like it wasn’t somewhere where humans should tread.

He wondered if the maid was human; Patchouli, the magician, wasn’t after all. But, he distinctly felt that asking such a question would be dangerous. He would just assume she wasn’t for now, as they climbed stairs up from what seemed to have been a basement and into the mansion’s main area. This was considerably more opulent, but not _pleasant_. Not for him. There was a flower mural painted on the ceiling, and more candles flickering around them. To counter these mansion normalcies, there were several ways one could go from here, but each way led into a wall of darkness. Perhaps this wasn’t a mansion, and was in fact a prison of some kind. That was how Gen felt.

The three of them continued to climb, but there wasn’t much to see along the way. Every so often, out the corner of his eye Gen swore he saw children darting around corners, and every time he whispered his fear to no reaction from the native pair. Like this – certainly uneventful, horribly tense – they would reach the mansion’s highest points.

Out a ways before them as they summited the final staircase was a pair of gently swaying vermillion curtains. Behind them one could see the burning summer color of a sky approaching night, and there were glimpses of a table where somebody sat under a large parasol.

The maid stepped forward and cheerfully called, “Mistress.”

“Sakuya—” replied a child’s voice “did one of the maids start a fire again? I smell something burning.”

“That would be Lady Patchouli.”

“Patche did?”

Patchouli’s answer was cool as she approached the balcony, “I started some fire, but I didn’t burn anything.”

“What’s with that? Anyway, Patche—” for some reason, Gen was now instinctively frowning “—Patcheee, come here. I want to talk to you about the Shrine Maiden, and it’s been quite a while since you came out of the library again. Let’s talk!”

“Yes...”

The Mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion sounded unquestionably charming; there was no other word more appropriate to describe it. Her voice was an attractive blend of youth and power, topped with a smooth and gentle inflection full of absolute love. When she spoke, you could tell she only had care in her heart, and there was a playful quality that beckoned you speak with her. Why Gen frowned was not due to distaste for her speech, but instead distaste for his reaction to it. He was compelled to know her, and he knew immediately that this was unnatural. He didn’t get the sense that there was magic layered atop it or anything, but he understood it to be a phenomenal and inhuman voice. The Mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion would have to be a devil, and that her words and how she spoke them bid attention and desire of those who would hear them brought up a kind of fear at the back of Gen’s mind that he never imagined he could conceive.

The maid of the devil drew back the curtains as Patchouli came to step through them. Gen could see from the side of her face that the magician looked on the Mistress fondly. In response, the Mistress wore a very glad expression, but it was somewhat difficult to see against the sky colored with falling sun. Furthermore it didn’t last long. The Mistress soon made a face at her friend.

“Patche, did you forget to bathe again?”

“That never happens.”

“You spend so long in the library, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t bathe.”

The devil held her nose.

“Do you know a perfume or soap magic to use with your water? You should use one, right now.”

“Remi, my clothes are only singed.” With this, Patchouli took a seat across from her friend. “Settle down. Besides, one of the vampire’s weaknesses was the sun, wasn’t it? Not fire.”

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t burn anything?”

“ _I_ didn’t. _He_ did.”

And they all three directed their attention to the human who had not moved from the top of the staircase.

“Hmm?” the Mistress cooed. “What are you doing over there? Come to me.”

Despite himself, Gen obeyed, beginning his approach. As he did so, the devil spoke again.

“You’re Patchouli’s guest?”

“‘Guest’, that’s... not what I’d call it.”

“Kidnapping victim?”

“That... yeah, I think that’s about right.”

She chuckled, and Gen’s heart beat. As he neared the balcony, he couldn’t suppress a question of his.

“Are you doing something with your voice?” he asked.

“No, I’m not.” Gen stepped outside and his eyes fell on the little woman as she continued. “I can, but I take pride in how charming I am without any help.”

Eyes adjusting to new light, Gen could now see that she didn’t simply sound like a child, she was one. She then introduced herself, allure falling from her every phrase.

“I should welcome you. This is the Scarlet Devil Mansion, and I am both its master and namesake: Remilia Scarlet. It seems you’ve arrived at an excellent time to Gensokyo. I’ve just changed this entire world, and not one day ago had it all under my thumb. A small push and I could’ve laid it utterly flat. What you suffered when you came here was me, and you should know that in this new age of the land of fantasy, none have passed into it as _terrible_ as me. You should know my name and take pride in being one of the first here to remember it. And remember it well: Remilia Scarlet, the Scarlet Devil, and which vampire fate has been brought to heel.”

Skin that almost looked like it carried frost, eyes sharp and knowing, features demonstrating delicacy and sure stature, and small. She was small and unreal, a gorgeous non-human that at a glance might fool you into believing her “normal”, but only one good look could tell you she was altogether impossible. In opposition to her spellweaver friend, Remilia Scarlet was mostly “sharp” in her features. Her clothing (an expensive-looking pale rose dress and mob cap) was pillowy and comfortable in parts, but the slope of her physique, the fangs showing over her lips, the crafted nails, the black wings folded at her back, and the wild yet tamed and cropped hair were all pointed and curved like finely made glass. With red slit eyes shining beneath cold blue bangs, the Scarlet Devil offered Itou Gen a most pleasant look.

“Hi, nice... meeting you.” was the lad’s eloquent response. He coughed after saying it.

Remilia sat straight in her chair and folded her arms. She turned down her lips and brought down her brow. Gen just looked at her, and Patchouli decided to rescue him.

“He just used magic for the first time and used it against me. I think he’s been overwhelmed.”

“If he’s going to be boring,” said Remilia, turning to her friend, “I’m going to just enact my deal. I have the right. He’s not from Gensokyo, yeah?”

“I’d guess he’s from Chiba,” said Patchouli, once more drinking tea.

“Oh? He’s not from Korea?” asked the maid.

Her master was quick to reprimand.

“Sakuya,” she said, aghast, “that’s a terrible thing to say.”

“Because he’s Chinese?”

“I’ll admit his face made me think he was from Ecuador,” Patchouli offered.

The vampire was incredulous.

“That’s not even in Asia...” muttered Remilia.

“Is he from the Philippines, Lady Patchouli?”

“Sakuya—”

“I’ll admit his face made me think he was from Lithuania,” offered Patchouli again.

“That’s completely different!”

Itou Gen gazed upon the vaguely bigoted comedy routine before him with very little thought in his head. His kidnapper was right: he had been overwhelmed. Just how much was there to absorb since he’d gotten here? No. Really. There were _many places_ where questions were raised and needed answers. Just a random thought: who was that red and white clad person that saved him from what had been chasing him the night before, and why hadn’t they picked him up? Another! Wasn’t that thing chasing him a _ghost_? At so many places he needed to stop and think and was given no time to do so, and now he stood in front of proclaimed killers: inhuman creatures that were open about how dismissive they were of human lives, and were having a black giggle. Gen just really needed a pause.

“Um... Miss... Lady Devil, I think the most pressing issue on my mind is the question of how much freedom I have.”

Remilia broke her concentration from Patchouli, who had been suggesting Gen’s South African heritage, and looked at Gen with concern. He wasn’t sure if the concern was based on “these are the people I spend all day with” or concern for him, but he did appreciate it all the same. Remilia then said:

“You aren’t free.”

To which Gen answered:

“Oh.”

Remilia then gave all her attention to Gen, while the other two talked about... British tea conglomerates?

“I’m sorry to say, Gen, that Gensokyo was never a safe place for people like you, and it especially isn’t now. In fact, it almost never will be: your fate is a dull dead end.”

“My fate, huh...”

“You would have two options,” Remilia raised two fingers, “in what will become the ordinary case at least: you could go to the human village and live a life of ignorance, or you could try to reach the Shrine Maiden and go home.”

“Hm...” Gen mumbled, blinked, and replied: “after your threats, I thought you wouldn’t be helpful at all.”

Remilia smirked.

“I said ‘you _would have_ ’. Fortune doesn’t favor you, child of man. You are _not_ free. You’ve got no options. You’re here and _we_ decide what to do with you.”

“I—” Gen furrowed his brow as he spoke “—I can’t accept such a fate.”

“Can you think of an option that doesn’t exist?”

And Remilia Scarlet gave him a look that told him he should.

Leaving him to think on this, the devil turned to the magician and said: “Forget about that, I enjoyed myself with the Shrine Maiden.”

Patchouli gave Remilia her (negative) opinion of this Shrine Maiden, saying, “When I met her earlier she was terribly violent. Like a...”

“Boar?” the maid suggested.

“No... It slipped my mind, though, so let’s call her a boar.”

“Well she’s still a child,” said the Child Mistress of Scarlet Devil Mansion, “but she’s very cute, and those rules she came up with were excellent. I have to thank me for getting her to make them.”

And Gen (who had to this point been quite uncomfortable) witnessed something quite comforting. The two in front of him began feeling supremely... _happy_. It was almost like there was radiance coming from them. Patchouli looked at Remilia similar to how siblings years older looked on those years younger, her lips showing her serenity and peaceful ease with all honesty. And Remilia, Remilia had her eyes closed and chuckled to herself like she was being tickled, basking in the presence of her friend who she so rarely saw aboveground. Oddly enough, the sight washed many of Gen’s troubling thoughts away.

“Did you have fun?” Patchouli asked.

“Tons of fun,” Remilia replied, still giggling.

“You were so eager to start an incident we didn’t get to practice with spell cards very much before you spread the mist.”

“You want to try right now, don’t you? You do right?”

“Yes... I think I should become more familiar with the system, and the moon _is_ rising.”

“Then, let’s.”

And simple as that, the two stood up and soared off the balcony into the almost-night sky, Remilia saying she’d talk more about “Reimu” as they fought, and Patchouli saying “Please do”.

So Gen was left with the maid of the Devil to watch as the two friends prepared for a fight.

“I should apologize.”

Gen looked at Sakuya, who had spoken suddenly, like he’d forgotten she was there. He might have.

“I meant to poke fun,” said the maid, “but Lady Patchouli informed me that your history is a bit troubled in Asia. I don’t tend to joke from ignorance.”

“Ah, well...” Gen folded his arms as he answered, “I honestly believe jokes like that only happen because there’s at least some truth to them...” He turned back to the pair, who seemed to be hashing out conditions. Shrugging, he admitted to the young lady: “If anything I appreciate the attempt to lighten the atmosphere.”

“It was mainly an attempt to bother you.”

“I still appreciate it.”

Now the two seemed to be arguing...

“... You’re Sakuya, right?” Gen continued.

“Yes. The Mistress named me Izayoi Sakuya.”

“Named you...” _I guess that explains the jokes in spite of the name, but..._ Gen decided to file this train of thought away in his mental cabinet of questions and retrieved another one in its stead: “Are you human?” he inquired.

“What else would I be?” asked the beaming maid.

Since the battle had yet to start, Gen chose to instead look closely over this maid. She was nearing his height, slender, and... _still_ : unnaturally well-balanced and unmoving. Was she breathing...? She had short white hair and wide, blue-grey eyes. She wasn’t abnormally pale or anything, but... Gen still thought she wasn’t human.

“A magician, like Miss Patchouli,” he finally answered.

“Well I’m not. I’m just a human like you. I’ve been offered the chance to become a magician among other things, but I have had to decline.”

 _Become, eh_ , thought Gen as he returned his gaze to the battle now about to begin. So many questions, too many questions.

“So,” called Patchouli in the short distance, “I’ll only be using metal and earth!”

“Handicap yourself however you wish, I won’t be playing!” came Remilia’s answer.

“I only mention this so you know I bested you with just two elements!”

“I’ll beat you with a single spell!”

“Now what’s a handicap?”

“Well you can only use one card at a time...”

They seemed to be radiating again. They called for the start of their duel both at once, and the fireworks began.

Patchouli immediately began with an invocation of earth she’d dubbed “Trilithon Shake”. Remilia allowed it, with no counterattack of her own. Upon casting it, clouds of dust emanated from a card she held in her hand, aimless but pervasive. Remilia moved through them like they weren’t even there, finding a path of avoidance with ease. With the dust came a regular materialization of crags, hurling through the air in seven directions around the magician. The sight reminded Gen, oddly enough, of screensavers and 3D shows. Several times he felt like ducking at the edge of the balcony to hide from the storm of terrain. Still he never looked away. His eyes were stuck on his captor, even as Remilia began firing back large bullets of blood-colored energy that would shatter into sharp pieces as they flew. It seemed to be a non-declared attack, or at least Gen hadn’t noticed a name. He did notice: he had become completely transfixed.

After Remilia showed a display of her own, marked with passion and the heat of blood, Patchouli’s returned and from her fingertips flowed metal. She spun and shined with impossible light, and with a falling hand rained waves of platinum and silver. The vampire mistress became a red blur in the face of it. She spread her arms. She became a cloud of winged creatures of the night. What erupted between them seemed a mad sprawl of chaos and magic, but it took little more observation to see the truth: that these were patterns, and highly directed. The magician summoned monoliths of green and dark metal and earth, the vampire colored the air in scarlet. There was an almost _snapping_ quality to their bout—to their movements: this was a grand match of awe and splendor, with dances of grace in-between. Witnessing it...

“Danmaku...” thought Gen aloud, to which Sakuya blissfully replied:

“Yes: curtains of bullets.”

“Metal Sign: ‘Silver Dragon’,” Patchouli spoke with a paper in her hand.

When the web of metal was scattered and done, Remilia lifted a slip of her own and replied, “Scarlet Sign: ‘Scarlet Shoot’.”

He realized: every spell required these paper cards to use, but often Patchouli would be concentrating on a book as she cast one. He wondered how exactly her magic worked...

Patchouli and Remilia hardly seemed to grow tired, though they did grow more excited. Remilia cast many kinds of magic that Gen was sure he’d used the night before as guiding lights during his waking nightmare. He didn’t give the scores of rose-like bullets much of his focus. Patchouli’s sorcery, on the other hand, was definitely keeping Gen’s attention. Remilia’s attacks tended to follow a similar scheme of elegance, passion, and the color red. Miss Patchouli had great variety and power. Every spell of hers felt absolutely unique, and he was reminded that these were spells crafted under some manner of constraint. After all, he’d born witness to impossible incantations for fire from her not long ago which did _not_ follow the rules. Just how much did she know of the arts?

“Earth and Metal Sign: ‘Emerald Megalith’!”

With her attacks, Patchouli had moved Remilia to a “corner” of the sky, forged from orbiting chunks of mud and steel. In this open sky, the magician seemed to have a commanding sense of space. Debris began to storm. Backing away, the vampire did well for a good while, yet eventually found herself encircled. She swore, and looked through the curtain at the earth’s summoner, just as spherical boulder met unceremoniously with her front side. The sound was immense, and at once she was driven down into the land. After this, Patchouli bid her summoned stuff to continue pounding her friend into the gardens below, causing dust to rise up like mist. She only relented when over half a minute had passed.

Gen leaned over the balcony railing and gazed upon Remilia’s smoldering figure with eyes aglow. Patchouli then said: “I win. Now, I think _you_ need a bath,” and he could easily hear the grin she must’ve been sporting from the sound of her voice.

~~

* * *

Anchor: E1

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2802880)

* * *

The mistress of the Scarlet Devil Mansion looked considerably less fancy when she returned to the balcony. Her maid, Sakuya, almost seemed like she was glittering with joy while looking at her dirty, beaten master in torn clothes. Patchouli looked self-satisfied, and Remilia herself did not look pleased at all.

“I’ll prepare the bath,” said Sakuya, and then she disappeared.

Gen spoke up “... How does she do that?”

“Sakuya can control time and space, I can control fate,” said the vampire.

“Why didn’t you fate yourself to win back there?”

Remilia glared at the young man, who looked as if he had asked that question entirely in earnest (though he hadn’t, and was inwardly amused with himself).

Patchouli decided to clarify.

“People can say anything, but whether or not they’re speaking truthfully is another matter. That’s basic, Itou Gen.”

“So the Mistress is lying?”

“She’s not,” said Patchouli with a shake of her head, “but fate is not absolute; if Remi can manipulate it, that much is obvious.”

“You don’t say...”

Remilia re-entered the conversation with a flat, matter-of-fact tone, arms folded as she spoke.

“It’s ironic,” she said. “Fate is in fact quite whimsical. Some incredible things in this world are fated to happen, but the mundane – such as slipping on a banana peel – can be fated as well. The finer details are fascinating to discuss, all told, but generally you can think of things happening _outside of your control_ as the will of gods.” She huffed, and turned her head to look at the rising moon before continuing. “Or you can think of it as plain rolling luck. Fortune and fate are not dissimilar.”

And soon all three were silently looking at the moon. Gen went over what Remilia had said in detail in his thoughts. She was clearly giving him a choice, talking of fate in one breath as if it was undefeatable, but in another as if it could be defied.

... Or rather, maybe it _was_ his fate to die here, and soon, and the vampire wanted him to give her a reason that that shouldn’t come to pass. She’d be his benefactor to readjust his life’s course. It... seemed like something she’d do.

He looked at Patchouli.

And then, he addressed the devil.

“Remilia Scarlet, I have a request.”

Remilia didn’t turn from the moon as she answered.

“You’re requesting something of me with nothing to offer.”

“Yes.”

She laughed and said, “Go on,” as if she was _very_ amused.

“Change my fate. I wish to become an apprentice of the magician Patchouli Knowledge.”

“Okay...” Remilia looked back at him from over her shoulder, smirking delightfully and saying, “This Remilia Scarlet will grant your wish.”

“Wait.”

Patchouli interrupted. She was grimacing at her pal, and continued with an irritated tone.

“What do you even mean to do? Entwine my fate with his?”

“Correct.”

“I don’t want an apprentice.”

“You’ll have one. You’ll want one.”

“Don’t... try looking cool while you’re covered in dirt! I don’t want an apprentice!”

“Fufu...”

“Remi, are you seriously...”

Remilia turned around fully and presented Gen with a grand, bright grin. She then declared in a glorious tone, her arms spread wide: “It’s a good thing you waited for our duel to be over! Had you made your request sooner and I lost, you would’ve died!”

“Right,” said the magician, biting her thumbnail, “because I’d never accept a lab rat as a student.”

 _Oh_ , thought Gen, _I_ am _on the same level as a lab rat to her._

“What’s the matter!” cried Remilia in disbelief. “You already have an assistant!”

Patchouli replied, “I have a familiar I sometimes summon for sorting or cleaning, yes, but a student...”

She looked at Gen like she was looking on a pile of garbage in somebody’s home. She shut her eyes before glaring at Remilia again, saying, “Why _would_ I want a student!?”

“I’m not a seer, Patche... Fate will work itself out.”

“I’m going to have Sakuya put garlic in your tea.”

“P-Patche!” Remilia suddenly flared out her wings as if startled, balling up her fists and crying at the magician.

“Remove my fate from his!”

Remilia looked pleading, and spoke like a distraught daughter to her obstinate mother, “I can’t. I already brought you two together.”

“Already!?”

“Pretty much immediately.”

“Remi!”

“Well now,” chimed in Gen, “that’s a relief.”

Patchouli now looked as though she was genuinely trying to kill Gen with a gaze. The soon-to-be apprentice offered a pleasant expression in return. She pointed a finger at him, almost touching his nose.

“You—!” she said, “even if you’re my fated student, I’ll never accept you as a person. I will always treat you poorly. You will have no peace.”

Gen’s expression turned serious before he answered her.

“Miss Patchouli... if Mistress Remilia isn’t kidding and we’re fated to interact, I want you to know that my prior statement was mostly in jest. I didn’t make this bid simply for survival, and I think Mistress Remilia knew that,” Patchouli lowered her hand, still fuming, “I honestly want to be your apprentice, even if it’s only for a short time. I’ve been captured by your spells.”

“Captured...” she grumbled.

“I’m not sure about anything yet, but I can tell you’re an incredible person, Miss Patchouli. I feel like under you I’d be able to come to terms with Gensokyo, and figure out what I want to do, and...” Gen paused before looking directly into the magician’s eyes, “that power of yours was so astounding, I can’t help but want it.”

“A selfish apprentice...” she grumbled, yet her expression had softened.

“If this is a land of fantasy, I’d like to be able to bask in it.”

Patchouli closed her eyes for a moment before looking sideways at Remilia and answering Gen.

“There are men and women who have said the same thing and have died...” she turned her eyes on him, “even if you become my apprentice, there’s no guarantee of your survival. Whether you live or die out there is your responsibility.”

“If I had your magic in my grasp, I imagine I’d feel rather unstoppable.”

“You’re a flatterer,” she closed her eyes again, “but don’t expect to just take my magic. You’ll need to have your own signature.”

“I see...”

“... Gen,” spoke Patchouli, grabbing the young man’s attention firmly, “you’re a weak and cowardly man. I don’t want an apprentice, but I especially don’t want you.”

“I guess I’ll have to change into someone more admirable.”

“... You will.”

Patchouli walked past him and back into the mansion, stopping a few steps in and barely turning her head to address him.

“I have a request of my own, Gen, and that is you change how you call me.”

At this point Sakuya reappeared between the two of them, looking incredulous. Patchouli continued, unfazed.

“How do you address a teacher, Gen?”

Gen was resolute in his answer.

“With unending respect, Master Patchouli.”

She showed him a small, half smile and finished their conversation with:

“Nothing less.”

She made for the stairs, Gen following shortly after.

And Remilia was very happy; elation came from her like an aura, and her wings were fluttering unconsciously. She simply could not stop smiling. Sakuya asked her what had happened, and she proudly declared that it wasn’t often she had the chance to twist fate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	2. Four of a Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen becomes a bit more familiar with the Mansion, despite or perhaps because of a series of chaotic events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
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> 
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> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to <https://www.touhou-project.com/> Be wary of **spoilers.**

* * *

Anchor: A2

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/953247)

* * *

The fate that had set Gen on the path of apprenticeship was not fast-acting and not manipulative. While Patchouli had been satisfied with Gen’s plea, and Gen had accepted her as his Master, the greater magician had _not_ accepted the boy as her student. Not yet. They were indeed fated to become master and apprentice, but it would be up to Gen how long it would take to get to that position, and there was no guarantee that in the end his new Master wouldn’t utterly despise him.

So far, he was doing well. He sorted books and sometimes read them when Patchouli wasn’t looking. He had a room, too, and was given baths and meals (though these meals were somewhat lacking... he didn’t like wondering why). When he had been there two days, Patchouli asked him:

“Don’t you want to go home?”

To which he answered, “I’m not really sure, and besides... my fate has yet to pass, no?”

Patchouli turned away at this point and left him to his tasks with the words: “Your fate will pass in fifty years.”

He laughed, having started to become used to his Master’s biting comments. But, truly, he didn’t want to entertain the thought of a return when he still felt so insecure.

Today was his third day at the Scarlet Devil Mansion and he was sorting books again. There wasn’t much more he could do without truly being Patchouli’s student. Sorting was only a simple task in theory, though. Many of these books were in languages he didn’t know (or languages he theorized nobody knew) and some had no titles, like the book his Master had given him on his first day. As he slipped a Spanish book of sorcery onto the shelf, he suddenly went stiff. Something smelled different in the library, which was very strange. The library smelled like the oldest books within it. This scent, however, was that of wild grass.

Turning about an aisle, Gen discovered the source.

“... Who are you? A friend of the librarian?” he asked.

The little girl on the floor with a grimoire in her hands answered without looking at him: “I’m a customer.”

Gen stepped toward her while frowning and said, “This is a private library, not a public one.”

“Well, the door was open!”

“The door was... Who _are_ you?”

The child flashed Gen a smile and declared, “I’m Kirisame Marisa, an ordinary magician.”

“You’re a magician? Like Master?”

Marisa looked at him quizzically and asked, “What, do you mean the librarian?”

Gen looked over the child. She was very short, perhaps ten or twelve years old but even then still pitifully short. She dressed like a Western witch: pointed hat, black dress, and white frills. She was also blond like a foreigner, though her eyes were gold rather than the blue he might expect. With that name, though, perhaps she was Japanese... Then again, Sakuya...

“Are you gonna answer me or just look at me?” said the girl. Her tone was surprisingly brutish.

“Yeah, I meant the librarian. Actually, wait, your name’s Marisa?”

“My name’s Hakurei Reimu.”

Gen scoffed at this. “Oi, brat, that’s the name of the Shrine Maiden.”

“I’m a human Shrine Maiden.”

“Can a Shrine Maiden be anything else?”

“I dunno. A youkai Shrine Maiden?”

“Quit it. You said your name was Marisa. A self-proclaimed magician.”

“I’m proclaiming it because I am it. I’m the magician of love and stars!”

How cute.

“Master Patchouli told me about you. You’ve been showing up when I haven’t been looking—aren’t you the one who’s been stealing books?”

“It’s a library. I’m borrowing them.”

“Like I said, it’s not that kind of library.”

“I’m borrowing them until I’m on my deathbed.”

“You’re really cheeky, huh...”

Gen wasn’t exactly sure what to do here but he felt his already low standing would plummet in Patchouli’s eyes if he let this ragamuffin go free. Really, she may have dressed fancily but this girl looked quite...”uncouth” was perhaps the right word; that aspect alone probably bothered his Master. If she was indeed stealing books, then all the more reason to want her caught. Still, he couldn’t help being apprehensive... There was a hint in his mind about Kirisame Marisa from Patchouli’s words that he couldn’t quite grasp, but it was making him hesitate when considering taking her in.

While he was still thinking, the child rudely asked: “Who the heck are you anyway?”

“Never mind that, I’m calling my Master.”

“Hmm, I dunno, I mind it. You got a name?”

“I do have a name.”

“It’s a useless name, huh.”

Gen shut his eyes as Marisa continued.

“Man, I’ve got you all figured out! You’re Remilia’s next meal!”

Opening his eyes, but not looking at Marisa, he wondered where his Master was right now.

“Ya scared?” she asked. “I’m the second best youkai exterminator in Gensokyo. I could take care of that vampire for you!”

Gen’s reply came immediately: “Please don’t bother the Mistress.”

“‘The _MISTRESS_ ’!?” shouted Marisa, dropping her book. “Ya got dominated!”

“No.”

“After I met her, I started devising a magic to counteract her mind stuff. Want me to try it on you?” Marisa was excited.

“You... You’re really all over the place,” muttered Gen, finally looking at her again. She looked like she was ready to pounce on him, and she had a strange blue bottle in her hand (he’d noticed, she’d taken it from her hat).

He stared at her in silence for a few moments. Marisa began to uncork the bottle.

“... Master Patchouli!” shouted Gen.

“No, no—drink this first!” Marisa cried, now standing and pushing the mouth of her mysterious bottle toward Gen’s face.

Gen was holding up his hands as he replied.

“I don’t want to drink that!”

“It’s only a little bit poisonous!”

“Are even the _humans_ in Gensokyo crazy!?”

“What’s crazy is you’re takin’ orders from a vampire. Only Sakuya does that.”

“What’s that about Sakuya?” came a third voice.

They both looked over in the voice’s direction to find a very irritated Patchouli Knowledge.

Marisa simply uttered:

“Uh oh.”

She plugged her bottle, returned it to her hat, and reached down to pick up the book she was reading.

“That’s far enough!” shouted Patchouli, with her hand out in a “stop!” gesture.

“Whaaat...” said Marisa, sounding annoyed.

“Don’t take that tone with me.”

Marisa put her hands behind her head and quipped: “I’m not taking a tone, I’m taking a tome.”

“You...” Gen’s master was very displeased. She looked at him and asked, “Gen, why didn’t you duel her?”

“Master...” said Gen, incredulous.

He had realized and remembered somewhere between Patchouli’s arrival and now that Marisa was indeed a magician, and a rather strong one. Child or no, he recalled hearing that she had barreled through the mansion on the night of his arrival and taken down all those in her way up until the Mistress, who stopped her. The one who ultimately defeated the Mistress was that “Hakurei Reimu” Marisa had earlier claimed to be.

But not being able to defeat Lady Remilia wasn’t cause to be relieved; she had defeated Master Patchouli, who had herself defeated Lady Remilia. If anything, this meant that all three were on equal footing. He certainly was _not_.

“Oh? A duel? You can use magic, guy?” asked Marisa, still very casual.

“If you mean a spell card duel, Master, I don’t actually _have_ any spell cards.”

“You can fight her without the rules,” said Patchouli.

Marisa made an oddly adorable noise of realization before saying, “An outsider, are ya?”

“So seems to be the case. I don’t really like my odds without rules, though.”

“You defeated me, didn’t you?” Patchouli replied, now wearing an un-warm smile.

“A fight without following Reimu’s rules...!” squealed Marisa. She reached into her hat again and retrieved a strange, octagonal device. After admiring it for a second, she thrust it right before Gen’s eyes, causing him to reflexively recoil. He saw that it was emblazoned with yin and yang and odd, blocky markings. “I can show you the true master spark!” she crowed gleefully.

“I know I don’t have any rights, but I’ll have to refuse.” Gen didn’t know what a “master spark” was, but he didn’t feel like learning by being on the receiving end of one. He looked at his Master with a miserable expression. She absolutely wanted this. She was trying to egg Marisa on to get her to kick his ass. She knew Marisa wouldn’t kill him, but the tiny magician _would_ hurt him.

Gen put his hand on his forehead and spoke again.

“If Miss Marisa defeated Master here in the library, I don’t stand a chance against her.”

“Too bad, huh,” mumbled Marisa, not actually sounding terribly disappointed.

“Alright, enough joking...” said Patchouli as she walked ahead and toward Marisa. “Get out of my library and don’t take any books.”

“Such a hoarder...” Marisa moaned, not looking Patchouli in the eyes.

“My collection is my collection. Why don’t you _ask_ to read, anyway? You’re simply a thief.”

“That’s rude,” said Marisa, sounding genuinely hurt.

“Listen—” However, Patchouli’s reprimanding was interrupted by the sound of an explosion. The greater magician looked immediately concerned, openly questioning the sound.

Oddly, Gen was mostly unfazed and just asked, “Isn’t it the Mistress fighting Sakuya?”

“Remi and Sakuya are away at the shrine, which means...”

“The mansion’s exploding on its own!” finished Marisa, who now looked _very_ intense.

“No, you dullard,” fired Patchouli with a glum expression. “The little sister’s probably escaped—”

There was another explosion. Patchouli shot Gen a fierce look and spoke in a commanding tone: “Gen,” she said, “follow my directions to the letter. Don’t screw this up. I’m not even threatening you with punishment; just know that I’m counting on you.”

This being the first time he’d seen Patchouli so serious, Gen nodded and assured her that he wouldn’t fail.

“Good,” she replied, “take this talisman and use it to fly to the library’s four corners. Activate the tomes there with the incantation for defense I taught you, and wait.”

Gen received a strange talisman – or rather Patchouli slapped a talisman to his chest – that immediately made him feel light on his feet. Before he could clarify any of this, Patchouli continued speaking.

“Marisa,” she said to Marisa, who was opening a large sack and dumping books into it, “get out of my library.”

With this, Patchouli flew off toward the room’s center, loudly declaring this day to be “the worst ever”.

Gen was thusly left with the thief.

“Hohoh...” the thief laughed, “it’s an incident.”

Grabbing her hat at its brim she looked at Gen with confidence and asked him: “You. Can you fly?”

“Maybe now I can?” As he said this, Gen attempted to float in the air and nearly spun into a face-plant.

“Patchouli must be really freakin’ out if she didn’t even tell you how to fly and left you with somethin’ so important.” Marisa reached into one of the bookshelves while she talked, soon pulling out a bamboo broom. “Grab on,” she said, “I’ll take you to those four corners in a flash!”

“R-Really?” asked Gen. He felt rather pathetic about possibly relying on a little girl in his Master’s time of need.

“Hurry up and grab on! I’ve got a bad feeling about this!”

“Okay—!” Gen listened to Marisa and held the end of the broom near the bristles. The young magician sat on it after this, and suddenly she and Gen were flying through the air at a frightening speed.

Gen couldn’t even yell; it was really too sudden.

Marisa made her way toward one of the library’s corners as Gen held on for dear life, now with both hands, occasionally nearly slamming into a bookshelf or the floor. The standing air of the library screamed past, and dust got into his hair and eyes. Eventually, Marisa reared back into a halt upon which Gen was hurled off of the broom and into a wall beside one of the library’s defense-tomes.

“Get up, man! Didn’t you hear what Patchouli said!? What’re ya doing!?”

Gen was being upside down against a wall and in pain. As quickly as he could, with wobbling limbs, the young man righted himself, opened the nearby tome (resting within a pedestal-pillar) to its center, and muttered the words Patchouli had taught him that would make the book a corner of a barrier. She’d taught him this method the same way one taught fire escape methods: she still didn’t trust the lad.

“Three more, grab on!”

“Oh man...”

Gen obeyed, and Marisa sped along.

~~

* * *

Anchor: B2

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2207530)

* * *

Four tomes, four stops, and four _very_ hard walls; Gen could now possibly have internal bleeding, but regardless he had accomplished Patchouli’s tasks. Marisa stood close by and looked toward the library’s exit as he shook in place on his knees.

“Hey, what’d she mean by ‘little sister’ anyway?” asked Marisa.

“Don’t know,” Gen somehow managed to say.

“Aaagh,” the little magician groaned, “this is really botherin’ me. And the fairies are going nuts! What sorta barrier did Patchouli set up anyway?”

“Looked like... one for... rain...”

“Rain...? Huh... In that case...” The little girl became lost in thought.

 _Fairies..._ thought Gen. Yes; the mansion employed alleged fairies as staff, though the winged-humanoids hardly actually did anything. While he had been flying around with Marisa, however, he’d noticed the maids darting around near the ceiling and shooting magic out in random directions. Gen now looked toward the center of the library, where a purple glow had been steadily growing in intensity as he’d activated the tomes. Patchouli had been invoking the spirits of water to start an endless rain surrounding the Scarlet Devil Mansion; his actions had basically ensured nothing could pass without getting soaked. While he, too, began to wonder _why_ , he heard a distant voice complaining about getting wet.

“Ah, that’s Reimu,” said Marisa.

 _The Shrine Maiden_ , thought Gen. He’d heard a fair amount about her in these three days, but hadn’t actually met her. The Mistress liked to visit her, but apparently if Remilia Scarlet extended any invitations to Hakurei Reimu the maiden never took them. According to Patchouli, Reimu was a law-enforcer, so that meant something rather bad was happening in the mansion.

“Hey, Remilia’s dinner.”

“Yeah?” Gen had no strength to play the straight man.

“Wanna see me settle this incident before Reimu even gets the chance?”

“What’re you saying?”

“It’s another vampire—” Marisa took from her hat the same octagon she’d aimed at him before, “—that’s the only explanation. If you want, I can show you how to exterminate one.”

“With a hammer and a stake, I know that much.”

“Not that kinda exterminate. C’mon, we’ll walk; I don’t want Reimu or Patchouli to notice us.”

“Thank God...”

Gen walked like an old man behind Marisa, who crept toward the library’s exit while keeping an eye on the new battle now intensifying at the library’s core.

~~

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Anchor: C2

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2287634)

* * *

The Scarlet Devil Mansion was one mansion that had two Scarlets and two Devils. Right now, Gen was watching Marisa fight the Scarlet Devil he hadn’t known about.

“Whoa!” came the shout from Marisa that was, at this point in the duel, becoming a catchphrase.

Gen was hiding behind a little cupboard, wearing a stern expression as he bore witness to the young thief’s several near-death experiences at the hands of Remilia’s younger, flaxen-haired, strangely-winged and very scarlet sister, Flandre.

“Kyahahahaha!! What a hilarious human!”

_Master was right to panic; the little sister is terrifying._

Gen blinked and flinched as a candlestick beside him suddenly burst out of existence.

_How does she do that?_

The little sister’s danmaku alone was like an unruly reflection of the older sister’s, which was enough to make one feel overwhelmed, however she seemed to have some sort of simple command of “destruction” as well, since she would randomly cause things in the vicinity to violently explode.

... He felt staying here was probably very stupid.

“You’re not like your sister, huh!?” yelled Marisa, finding a brief respite between spell cards. “This is some sorta play!”

“I’m really happy you’re still alive but it’s starting to annoy me!” cried Flandre, laughing hatefully.

“I’ll annoy the hell out of you! Magic Sign: ‘Stardust Reverie’!”

“What’s this, what’s this?” whispered Gen.

To this point, Marisa had not actually used any spells, let alone the “master spark” she’d threatened earlier. Having only been exposed to one magician’s magic, he was curious what “love” and “stars” looked like when used as a weapon.

From Marisa’s strange artifact erupted a truly absurd number of rainbow-colored stars, swirling around the girl like a vortex. This magic had a definite pattern, awfully elaborate and beautiful, and at a glance he saw no simple openings. Apparently Flandre did not either.

“What is this!?” yelled the little vampire, clearly very angry with her opponent. It didn’t take long before she was overwhelmed and swarmed with stars.

“Dang, that was really easy,” exclaimed Marisa, honestly surprised.

Flandre fell to the ground, smoking, in front of Gen’s little cupboard. They were in the mansion lobby, and all the fairies had fled when the two’s battle had started.

“How’s that!? I’m better than Reimu!” Marisa boasted.

“I don’t even know Miss Reimu,” Gen replied, still looking at Flandre.

“Well, speak of the devil,” said Marisa with a laugh.

From the direction of the library came another little girl, this one dressed in red and white and looking a bit worse for wear. She gave off some sort of impression of a shrine maiden, at least, but it wasn’t quite right. Her sleeves weren’t attached to her shirt, and rather than hakama she wore a long dress. She also kept her hair tied with a large bow and two cloth tubes to frame her face. Dark brown hair, earth-colored eyes; this was Hakurei Reimu.

“The devil’s there on the floor, isn’t she?” said Hakurei Reimu, adding: “Wait, are there _two_ devils? Can you call them both that?”

She was asking the person behind her, Gen’s Master.

“Remi is the ‘Scarlet Devil’,” answered Patchouli. “Her little sister, Flandre, is just a vampire.”

The greater magician stepped over to Flandre’s body while Marisa descended and Reimu followed. Gen remained hidden, which his Master noticed.

“She’s not going to bite,” Patchouli told him with a grin.

“I honestly don’t believe that,” Gen answered.

“Thank you for activating the tomes. Judging by the state of destruction in the mansion, the little sister tried to leave but the rain stopped her. It really would’ve been a mess for us had she gotten out...”

“It’d have been a mess for all of Gensokyo! What Is Remilia thinking?” the Shrine Maiden complained, sounding rather aggravated.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Patchouli.

“I mean, keeping her sister in a basement for five hundred years – you’re asking for trouble with a situation like that! Hasn’t she read any books?”

“An ancient evil awakens after five hundred years to threaten the land?” Marisa offered.

“It’s only been four hundred ninety-five years, and the little sister isn’t evil,” Patchouli said, kneeling down and brushing the now-unconscious girl’s cheek, “she’s simply troubled.”

“She’s trouble _some_ ,” said Reimu.

“I think she wants a playmate,” Marisa added.

“ _I’ll_ come _here_ if it keeps her out of my hair. Jeez!”

_So that’s the Shrine Maiden everyone’s been talking about... Wait a second!_

Gen remembered something. He could ask her to send him home, couldn’t he?

... But, looking at Patchouli, he decided not to. He waited as Reimu, Marisa, and his Master finished their conversation, his Master putting a spell on Flandre and lifting her with magic in order to return her to her room.

~~

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Anchor: D2

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1270555)

* * *

Later that day, into the night, Gen had returned to the study and was taking a break from sorting (and now cleanup) to have some tea and do some research. He sat at one of Patchouli’s crescent tables with his leg bent and rested over his knee, and his general posture was as always sloppy.

Patchouli returned to the library as he was turning a page in the book he was reading. She addressed him at a distance, approaching as though she were very tired.

“Thank you again for today, Gen.”

“Don’t mention it, Master. I didn’t do much of anything other than almost get myself killed.”

“That’s right, wouldn’t want you betraying your fate like _that_ would we?”

Patchouli was smiling honestly as she sat across from Gen and bid a book to come to her from a nearby shelf. She opened it and began to read, saying:

“After all, you still aren’t my student.”

“Well, I get to learn while being this... kind-of-assistant of yours.”

“Yes, you read books when you think I’m not looking.”

Patchouli chuckled, and Gen winced.

“You knew about that?” he asked.

“I know everything about my library.”

“Then I wonder how I managed to trick you and win in a duel on my first day here.”

“You really do have a smart mouth, Gen. I’m wondering if I should fix it.”

“Leave it. This sort of conversation between us is pretty nice, no?”

Patchouli didn’t answer him, and instead they read quietly for the next few minutes. Between them there was such a calm that one would never imagine mad chaos had transpired mere hours before. A distant clock ticked and tocked, cups lightly touched tiny dishes, and pages softly turned. When the few minutes were up, Patchouli spoke again.

“You’re not an idiot, Gen.”

“Thanks.”

“So why didn’t you ask Reimu to take you home?”

“Hmm...” was all Gen uttered.

“Surely you remember that one of the Hakurei Shrine Maiden’s duties is returning outsiders to their homes after they’ve been spirited away.”

Gen turned another page in the book he was reading, put his thumb to a page, and closed it before looking across the table at his Master.

“I thought about it.”

“You really _aren’t_ an idiot.”

“Please don’t say it again, now I’m not even sure of myself...” After complaining, Gen sighed and said “ Anyway, I thought about it, but decided I’d be missing a big chance if I just went home.”

“Missing, you say?”

“What I can possibly do here, I can’t do anywhere else.”

Gen paused and removed the talisman Patchouli had attached to him earlier in the day that, to this point, he’d forgotten about. He looked at it, recognizing a few familiar runes, and handed it to his Master who wordlessly received it.

“Flight, spells, sorcery, magic, all of it is impossible in the Outside World. Today was a bit like a whirlwind, but I understood some things from watching Miss Marisa and Mistress Flandre.”

“You mean their fight?” Patchouli asked.

“No, them. Miss Marisa was a free spirit, but she was definitely human. She was a human free spirit in this Gensokyo, and I realized I was a bit envious.”

Patchouli drank some of her tea and nodded for Gen to go on.

“Mistress Flandre was powerful, yet not free. I realized that Scarlet Devil Mansion residents rather limit themselves, don’t they?”

“How do you mean?”

“Master, you hardly leave the library. When Mistress Remilia leaves, she has a specific destination in mind, and her weaknesses don’t allow her to be very daring in her exploration. As for Sakuya... she’ll only leave if the Mistress asks her to.”

Patchouli was nodding throughout all this. When he finished, she added:

“Our guard is also only ever our guard.”

“Who?” asked Gen with an eyebrow raised.

“Hong Meiling. She was the one who grabbed you the night you came here and collapsed outside the mansion gates.”

“Well then, more evidence...” Gen drank from his own cup after he said this. Thankfully Sakuya hadn’t done anything funny with the tea since he’d gotten here. He continued: “If I do end up a resident of this mansion, I don’t want to be stuck here as well.”

“Hmmm.”

“I respect you, Master, but I’ve always been a man gripped by wanderlust. I’ve been long compelled to walk strange paths and into the unknown. Always, I’ve been bound like this. Now, to be honest, I can’t help but want to explore this land of fantasy.”

“This land of fantasy is detailed entirely within these books,” said Patchouli, gesturing to her pride.

“When I first woke up in the mansion, one of the first things you told me was that you can learn nothing if you do nothing, Master.”

“Not advice that I always follow myself...” mused Patchouli, “but that’s fair.”

“But, yes, to make a long story short: I don’t want to just abandon opportunities like that.”

Patchouli put down her own book and sighed.

“Really, a selfish apprentice.”

“Aren’t I not your apprentice?”

“When did I say that?” Patchouli asked as the corners of her mouth rose. “Only I could be Master to an Apprentice such as this. It’s rather appropriate.”

“Wait... are you joking again?”

“I never make jokes.”

“You... You make _many_ jokes, Master.”

“I’m always serious, and right now I think you should get up and return to helping Sakuya clean up the mansion. Remi’s still mad.”

“Uh, right...” Gen did as he was told, taking a napkin from the table to bookmark where he’d been in the book he was reading. He then told his Master, “Well then, excuse me.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at eight in the morning, Gen. Goodnight for now.”

“Have a good night, Master.”

The apprentice left his Master in confused, yet good spirits. As for his Master, she returned to her book at once, but was entirely unable to return to a neutral expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	3. Gensokyo’s Feared and Fearful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A young man's first journey into the Forest of Magic leads him to a meeting with a certain puppeteer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.3**  
>  [A3].[B3].[C3].[D3].[E3].[F3].[G3].[H3]  
> [I3].[J3]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to <https://www.touhou-project.com/> Be wary of **spoilers.**

* * *

Anchor: A3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1165106)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2lVKQ3Umy0o> ]  
[Title - Animal Crossing Original Soundtrack (Kazumi Totaka)]

Recent discovery: it was impossible to tell when morning came in the Scarlet Devil Mansion. Or, rather, in most rooms it was impossible. Gen hadn’t been there long and so of course he was not used to this, but he did have an alarm that made it easy to forget this issue.

So came the morning after the little sister’s rampage, and his alarm sounded.

“It’s morning!!!”

It was a voice delivering happiness in the greatest way it could, and it came from a little transparent-winged child in maid’s clothing. This was one of the fairies of “morning” who worked in the mansion.

“It! Is! Morning! Sir Gen, wake up! Morning has come!”

Gen was awake, but not opening his eyes. For many reasons, his body was very sore today.

“A sunrise in your room!”

There was a noise like a pillow hitting into a bed and then the room was filled with light. Gen winced, and then squinted to see that the maid causing a ruckus in his bedroom was now lifting her hands in the air and materializing a miniature sun above her head.

“Morning~ is the prettiest time of day~!” she sang. Gen continued to squint as she improvised a song on the spot.

“When morning comes~ the wet grass of the moon~ will dry in the sun~! Warm and happy morning~!”

... He wondered how long she would sing.

“I love~ the sun~! La la laa! I love~ Lady Sakuya~ and Lady Patchouli~!”

_Wow._

“Miss Meiling~ is cool~! Mistress Remilia~ is short~!”

“Alright, I’m awake.”

Immediately, the little maid put out her sun and fluttered to Gen’s bedside as he rose.

“Good morning, Sir Gen,” said the maid. “The clothes Lady Patchouli asked to be made for you are in your closet.”

Gen looked her over with vision somewhat blurred. There were a great variety of maids in Scarlet Devil Mansion. This one was a little like Flandre in coloration; having yellow hair and scarlet eyes. Like all the maids in the mansion, her hair was carefully combed and her overall appearance was very together. According to Master, most fairies were not like this and only even wore clothes in mimicry of humans, so Sakuya had to take care of them every morning. Speaking of Patchouli though...

“Master had clothes made for me?”

“Lady Patchouli loooves you!”

As the little maid said this, she opened her arms wide and looked like she was about to take off and fly around the room in glee. Gen kept her in place with a hand on her shoulder.

“Let’s not go that far,” he uttered. “By the way, Little Maid; does another maid wake up the Mistress like this?”

He was genuinely curious; if a maid caused a sunrise in the Mistress’s room every morning that had to be... unfortunate.

The maid balled up her fists and huffed with pride as she answered.

“Lady Sakuya always wakes up Mistress Remilia every morning ‘cause they’re in love!”

Gen removed his hand from her shoulder and started getting up.

“You sure are smitten with ‘love’. I believe that’s only devotion.”

“They’re in love, idiot!”

“Huh.”

Well to be honest, he sensed Miss Sakuya loved her Master, just not necessarily in that way.

Now standing, Gen did some light stretching and addressed the maid again.

“You can go now. Don’t trip and break anything.”

“Boom!” shouted the fairy maid, and she shot a burst of warm magic air into Gen’s face, tossing his hair around and making him look like a vagrant. She then stifled a giggle for a moment before holding her gut and pointing at him while laughing merrily, tears almost coming out of her eyes. Still laughing like this, she flew out of the room, backwards, and tripped as she turned the corner. Her laughter could be heard fading with distance. This happened every morning.

Gen sighed with a smile and looked at the grandfather clock on his wall as he smoothed out his hair. It was still 7AM, and he had an hour until breakfast with Patchouli. He wondered what he’d do after changing and brushing his teeth...

[] Perhaps he’d find the mansion’s sole guard.

[] Maybe observe the maids of Scarlet Devil Mansion in their morning preparation.

[] Seek out the Devil.

<>

[X] Perhaps he’d find the mansion’s sole guard.

~~

* * *

Anchor: B3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1326196)

* * *

Faraway songs drifted from the mansion, none of tradition. Because of the younger Mistress’s havoc from the day before, the maids were still excitable and in tremendously good spirits. That was good for them, but not Sakuya.

At the gate to Scarlet Devil Mansion, one woman of considerable height listened to these nonsensical songs with a pleased look. The sun’s rays bathed her in caring light and a quiet zephyr gently moved her lengthy orange-red hair and braids. She was happy, now, and it was easy to forget how she’d been scolded the previous night for not catching a thief. So happy was she, she lifted a gloved hand and cast forth a rainbow of qi to enter the sky. Leaning into the warm bricks of the mansion’s walls, she watched as her energy playfully spun and twirled in the air. In the nearby forests, fairies stared transfixed at the ribbon of lights, and the woman gave them a grin and a quick salute. As if taking this as an invitation, they joined the arc in the sky and danced alongside it.

“I wonder if we need any more maids...” spoke the woman, folding her arms.

“Certainly,” came a male voice, “I may not have been here long but I daresay you can never have enough fairy maids.”

The woman looked up to spot a young man in somewhat overlong clothing sitting atop the wall beside the gate. He was wearing a dark yellow and embroidered buttoned vest over a collared shirt on his torso; on his legs he wore trimmed brown trousers, along with rich-looking work shoes decorated with small crescent moons, one each. Over all this he wore something that looked at once like a coat and a robe, but in any case certainly seemed comfortable and fancy (it was cuffed, and those cuffs were tied with blue bows). It was colored like the night sky, and seemed to shift in shade on its own. Around his shoulders was an extensive white scarf that draped down to his legs and was left unwrapped. Short velvet ribbons of many colors were tied onto its outer side, and the entire thing easily moved with the wind. The woman wasn’t sure who this was until she got a look at his face. Those innocent, large eyebrows of his and that healthy mid-length, messy dark hair were immediately recognizable. This was the man she’d brought in several nights ago.

She answered him, shouting “You like little girls, Sir Gen!?”

Unperturbed, he answered, “I merely meant to imply that these maids are quite useless. If every one is a small fraction of Miss Sakuya’s competence then more can only do good.”

“I just think they’re cute,” she said with a smile.

Gen looked at the wild fairies still playing with the girl’s rainbow. They were certainly cute. While watching, he asked the woman a question:

“By the way: you’re Scarlet Devil Mansion’s guard?”

“Yeah!” the guard replied with enthusiasm, “I’m Hong Meiling, the Gatekeeper of the Devil!” After saying this she closed her eyes and then her hand, beating the fist to her chest with open pride.

Gen looked down at her again and allowed himself a smile as well while he spoke, “Then I’d like to say it’s a pleasure to meet you. It sounds like you already know my name; I wanted to thank you for rescuing me when I got here.” Gen nodded toward her and lastly said, “So, thank you very much.”

“‘Rescuing’?” Meiling asked, cupping her chin and turning her head slightly crooked.

“Master Patchouli told me you picked me up when I was spirited away.”

“Ohhh!” The gatekeeper dropped her fist into her palm. “You know how a cat brings mice to its master’s doorstep? It was like that.”

“...” Gen looked at Meiling in silence, his smile replaced.

“So,” said Meiling, now with her hands on her hips, “when are we eating you?”

“God.”

“Huh?” Meiling replied with a fluttering voice, honestly perplexed.

Gen kept his eyes closed for a few seconds to collect his thoughts and composure. Then, slowly, carefully, he let himself down from the wall on Meiling’s side. After dusting himself off from the resulting clumsy fall, he addressed her again with a gesture.

“I don’t think I’m on the menu anymore. I’ve become Master Patchouli’s apprentice.”

“What a waste!” Meiling cried, recoiling with her arms raised. Her disbelief unabashedly showed on her face.

“Yeah, I seriously hate to disappoint you.”

“Well, you’re scrawny so it wouldn’t have done much, but I was still looking forward to it...” The mansion guard heaved a great sigh and put her hands on her hips again. With a frustrated expression she looked at her feet and spoke to Gen, “Didn’t you know? Because of what Mistress Remilia did we can’t eat village humans anymore, and outsiders are already rare as it is according to Lady Patchouli.”

Gen put his hands in the front of his coat-robe’s pockets and cocked his head as he asked the guard a question.

“So you really do eat people at Scarlet Devil Mansion?”

“We’ll eat humans, yes,” said Meiling with a frown, looking at Gen now. “Or, well, I will and the Mistresses will.”

“Master doesn’t?”

“Lady Patchouli? No, she just eats too much cake.”

Gen thought his Master wouldn’t want to hear Meiling say that.

“Actually,” Meiling continued, lifting a hand perpendicular to her mouth as if telling a secret, “Mistress Remilia only drinks blood, and I think Mistress Flandre does too. She wouldn’t let you know it, but Mistress Remilia is a very kind Mistress.”

Meiling seemed prideful again. Gen was really coming to realize how loved the Mistress was. In his case, too, he had a lot of fondness and appreciation for her. He supposed she’d fully earned her place as the mansion’s master.

“So, Miss Meiling, I have to ask,” spoke Gen, returning to the subject, “why do you eat humans?”

“They’re delicious,” she said flatly, standing up straight.

“If you’re a magician like Master Patchouli... why do you eat them and she doesn’t?”

“Ehh? I’m no magician!” said the not-magician, shaking her head and frowning.

“What are you?”

“A youkai! We scare humans, attack humans, and eat humans – that’s how it’s supposed to be!”

“Huh... I thought I saw you using magic earlier though.”

“That wasn’t magic, it was qi! A lot of youkai use magic, but I don’t.”

 _Qi? Isn’t that from manga?_ thought Gen, who didn’t know very much about martial arts.

“You could probably do with learning how to control your qi, Sir Gen,” continued Meiling, entering a stance. “You said you’re Lady Patchouli’s apprentice, right?”

“Yes, I said that.”

“So you’re not actually a magician yet. I guess you’re not immortal, right? You’re a typical human outsider with a nice title.”

“Uh?” Gen made a confused sound and a matching face. She’d lost him.

“Whoa, you don’t even know that yet!?” said Meiling loudly, now entering some sort of “resting” stance. She talked with Gen in a concerned tone, “You’re an outsider, Sir Gen. Even if we won’t eat you here at the mansion, if you ever go outside someone else will take the chance.”

“Are you serious?” Gen asked.

Meiling nodded with her answer, “Oh yeah. It’s not a big deal walking around if you’re a villager, but since you’re an outsider the new rules don’t apply to you. You need to become inhuman.”

“Wait, what...” Gen said in a weak voice. He put his hand into his hair and stared at Scarlet Devil Mansion. “You mean I have to eat humans?”

“You could, but no. I think you’re better off asking Lady Patchouli about it, but she’s a natural-born Magician so I don’t know if she knows all the details—” Meiling was now stretching, clearing nitrogen from her neck, and cracking her knuckles, “—in any case, you can’t expect to live long when you’re that weak. If we’re really not eating you anymore, you should come to me on breaks; I’ll take care of you and teach you what I know.”

Gen returned his attention to Meiling and answered, “What use would qi training have for a studying magician?”

“Qi comes from your core,” Meiling encircled her stomach with her hands as she said this, looking down at it, “magic comes from your spirit and surroundings, your materials, and a bunch of other stuff, but it’s limited. The strength of your qi is your strength, and it’s naturally boundless.”

“I think that makes no sense,” Gen commented.

“Maybe, but in Gensokyo nonsense makes sense,” spoke Meiling, now smiling at him, “but regardless, even strength and endurance training would do you a lot of good. I think you’re gonna have to run for dear life a lot until you get competent with your magic.”

“Good point,” Gen agreed.

“Man, but it’s really too bad we’re not eating you,” lamented Meiling, still smiling.

“Yeah, it’s really too bad,” said Gen, mock lamenting and mirroring Meiling’s “it’s a pity” smile.

Meiling put one hand on her hip and extended the other toward Gen.

“But, Sir Gen,” she said, “I think you’re pretty strong already. It doesn’t look like you’re scared of me and you’ve managed a few days in Gensokyo already. I’m pretty impressed, and I’m looking forward to your practical strength matching the strength of your will. Shake?”

Gen accepted her handshake.

“Thanks,” he said, firmly shaking her hand once, “though I think I might just be going crazy.”

Meiling roared with laughter at this and, ending their handshake, struck Gen on his shoulder a few times.

“Yeah, you probably are!” she cried.

Meiling looked at the sun, and then at the shadows cast from nearby trees. Then, she looked at Gen and said, “Seems like it’s nearly eight. You have anything to do?”

“Yes. I have to see Master Patchouli.”

“Can you climb the wall again? I don’t want to open the gate.”

How honest.

“I’m not sure,” Gen admitted, “this scrawny body of mine has taken a lot of punishment in a short amount of time.”

“Alright then, up you go~,” sang Meiling, who bent low and went between Gen’s legs, turning about when she got there.

“Hm!?” Gen made another sound, this time of surprise, as Meiling lifted his entire self onto her shoulders with ease. She then began flying, Gen clinging desperately to her neck.

“Tell me when you can fly so we can duel, okay?” the flying gatekeeper said.

And Gen only nodded as he was swiftly escorted toward the mansion’s entrance doors.

~~

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Anchor: C3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1822297)

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“... You look dirty.”

These were his Master’s first words upon seeing him in the library. He looked at himself, and wasn’t sure he agreed.

Patchouli lifted a finger and said something in Esperanto. Upon doing so his clothes were ruffled all over, removing dirt and dust and making them smell even better than they already did.

“I had a feeling you’d dirty them so I put an incantation on your clothing to return them to the state from when the incantation was placed. I’ll teach you it. I don’t want you bringing dirt in here.”

She coaxed the little filth from Gen’s clothes toward herself through the air and guided it into a small vial she’d pulled from her sleeve. Stopping the vial, she held it up to candlelight and muttered, “At the gate, were you?” before returning it to her sleeve and looking at her student. Then, she smirked. “Those clothes look good on you,” she complimented, and followed with, “Good morning, Gen.”

“Good morning, Master. Thanks, though I think these are to your tastes?”

Gen lifted up his sleeves by pinching them at the cuffs, examining his new outfit.

“They are,” Patchouli simply admitted. “Sit down,” she ordered, “let’s eat breakfast.”

Patchouli was sitting at a somewhat sizable round table laid out with food. This was actually the first time he’d been invited to eat with her, and before he had eaten in some sort of pantry under a staircase. He was beginning to notice: his Master had many different tables and seemed to change them every day. That, or he was always meeting her at another part of the library. Either case was very likely.

He sat across from her and looked over the offerings. With food on the mind, he asked his Master a pressing question.

“Master, you don’t eat people do you?”

“As a magician,” said Patchouli, who was now eating a slice of cake, “I don’t have to eat at all.”

“However, you’re eating.”

“You’re not. Eat.”

Gen obeyed, going after a surprisingly wholesome porridge topped with blueberries.

“I like to eat,” said his Master with a sweet smile, “that’s all there is to it.”

Gen tried, very hard, not to think about Miss Meiling’s earlier comments.

“However, no, I don’t eat humans if that’s what you were asking,” she finally answered. “Scarlet Devil Mansion overall has little need for food humans eat. As it stands, there’s only you and Sakuya who have to eat like humans.”

“Well, we’re humans.”

“Yes, and I only require cake and tea.”

It was really difficult to ignore Miss Meiling’s earlier comments.

Gen drank some tea himself and pushed forward.

“So do any magicians eat humans?”

“Do any humans eat rabbits?” Patchouli was quick to answer a question with a question. She followed up with, “Magicians are a class of youkai. We terrify and harass humans as a rule, and if we so desire, we might eat them too. Human flesh is a kind of delicacy for youkai: unneeded, but allegedly quite the bounty. Any youkai that enjoys the taste of human flesh will always want that taste again.”

The apprentice was glad breakfast contained no meat as his Master candidly explained what he considered to be cannibalism.

“How about the Mistress?” he asked, happy his appetite remained yet also wondering what compelled him to continue this conversation.

“Remilia is known as the Scarlet Devil because... No, never mind, I don’t think I’ll tell you.” Patchouli had finished her slice of cake and was now sipping tea while simultaneously taking another. She told Gen: “Remi has to drink blood, and so she has a deal with Gensokyo as a whole that provides her with meals; meals from humans such as yourself—” here she indicated to Gen with her cup “—but she does not kill humans, nor does she ‘eat’ them. The little sister also only drinks blood; however our gatekeeper will eat every part of a human from skull to toe.”

Gen put down his cup and seemed to melt in his chair. He truly found this subject disgusting in every sense of the word, and it was almost impossible to remain cheerful given his present circumstance. He was always faced with it, but knew to turn away: away from the dark reality of a world that didn’t mind him dead. Although he had ambition, there was something primordial truly holding him still and it wasn’t something he could completely ignore.

“You’re afraid,” answered his Master, “Gen. You’re a human and this is a world of demons.”

Gen looked at his Master with a sunken gaze and replied, “Huh?”

“Gensokyo was established as a kind of fantastic nature reserve. You know the concept?” Gen nodded, Patchouli took a lump of sugar in her finger tips from a bowl and raised it over her teacup. “This tea is like the Outside World, and this sugar cube is fantasy—” she dropped the cube, dissolving it at once “—fantasy enriches the Outside World, but it no longer exists as it once did. Its form is destroyed, but—”

Patchouli carefully drank the sugar-filled tea to the last drop. When finished, she showed the empty glass to her student, revealing residual sugar granules within.

“—not entirely. Bits remain. These are like us of the mansion, tanuki, some ghosts...” saying this, she reached a fingertip into her cup and scooped up the sugar. She brought it to her lips and licked it away, finishing with, “It only takes a touch to wipe it all away, though. A simple denial of existence and the dream is dead. Fantasy and common reality are currently incompatible.”

“So Gensokyo is the ‘land of illusions’ because it keeps illusions alive?”

“No, Gensokyo has always been Gensokyo; what keeps illusions alive is the Hakurei Barrier, but I don’t think we should discuss that today. Essentially...”

Patchouli stopped, placing her cup down and looking at Gen half-expectantly. He finished her thought:

“Youkai were given a place to exist in Gensokyo, so it’s their place. But, since they need humans to exist as well...”

“Humans are here, but this place isn’t for them. They’re the minority, and an outsider like you? You’re the fuel. Since this is the nature of things, you understand it without being told. You are afraid, and that is why: you’re supposed to be.”

Patchouli returned to her cake, her explanation now done.

“I can’t say I like being afraid,” he admitted.

“That’s why you’re my student, right?”

His Master was quickly done with her cake, and Gen had somehow managed to eat his entire course. With the fork she’d used to kill the cake, Patchouli pointed at her student and explained something.

“You have to learn quite a lot, but that zeal of yours gives me high expectations of you. This brings me to today’s tasks. You are a truly sad excuse for a magic user right now, Gen, but I’m going to send you out into that world you’re so afraid of.”

“What? For real?” Gen looked quite sullen as he said this.

“I want you to go into the Forest of Magic and gather some ingredients for me. The forest is a good starting point for you – while it has youkai beasts, you’re more likely to find the fairies and overall atmosphere harmful, especially during the day.”

She stood up after saying this and planted her hands on the table. Breathing out through her nose, she gave Gen a gaze full of excitement.

“Now, let me outfit you so you can be on your way.”

“You got it, Master.”

Gen pushed out his chair and stood up, his Master coming over to him and fiddling with his clothes as she absently called for papers and books to float to her from around the library.

“This belt of yours can carry a few tomes, mainly small ones but you can carry a large grimoire here...” Patchouli was speaking rather quickly, though it was also quietly. Really, it was more like a rush as she fastened things to his outfit, spoke incantations, and drew runes and glyphs upon him and his new possessions – many little things, she did. “I’ll provide you with two spell cards,” she said with a chuckle, slipping paper into his left sleeve. “I just want to know what happens if you try to use them. Be sure to use them, alright? They work with—” she patted a little notebook now fitted to his belt, causing him to flinch “—this little book of childish spells. When you cast, it should automatically open to the right page. The sign is written in plain English on the cards. Terribly easy. It’s perfect for you, Gen.”

“Right.”

“Mister Wanderlust, I will not be providing you with a flight talisman today for you and your clumsy aerial mistakes; today you’ll be walking.”

“Is the forest not far from here?”

“A...” Patchouli whispered, flicking her wrist for a rolled up paper “... map! A map that shows you how close it is to the mansion.”

With this stuffed into a pocket within his coat, the greater magician looked over her apprentice for one final check. Satisfied, she looked on Gen with eyes full of anticipation.

“If you die today,” she said, “that will be a pretty amusing turn of events too.”

With a non-expression, Gen replied: “I’ll try to have an adventure worthy of hearing you laugh, Master.”

“That would be good. Now then,” she turned from him while speaking, and had another book come to her as she walked toward a comfortable-looking chair, “collect whatever you think looks interesting. Yes, I think that will provide excellent discussion if you survive. I’ll be waiting for you here in the library.”

Patchouli stopped before the chair and turned to face her student saying, “Well? Go. There aren’t so many hours and minutes in the day.”

So Gen turned on his heel and gave his Master a single wave from behind.

“I’m off!” he said, and he hoped he would soon return.

~~

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Anchor: D3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2023379)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTKtaIPnd8M8> ]  
[堂々巡り - 東方アイリッシュ8 妖精奇譚 (Floating Cloud)]

The Forest of Magic gave him an unfortunate remembered feeling. The night he’d arrived in Gensokyo was the night Mistress Remilia had decided to enact what she dubbed the “Scarlet Mist Incident”: filling the sky with a blood-red mist that almost obfuscated (and easily colored) the moon in the night sky. She said she hoped to stop the day from ever coming so that she could go through the land at her leisure – something he could understand. The mist was more than a sunscreen, however, as it was very oppressive to humans. He had found it difficult to breathe, though thankfully that experience had been much worse than the stagnant air the forest offered.

Before he’d left her sight, Patchouli had stopped him and given him five more things. Four of those things were glass bottles tied to a taught strap that he kept now looped onto his belt, always clinking as he moved. The fifth thing was advice:

“You look like a Gensokyo native now,” she’d said, “so you can probably get away with fooling other natives. Sakuya says rumor of your existence hasn’t gotten around yet, so you should be safer than you otherwise could be. You should thank me.”

He thanked her and was off before she stopped him again and taught him the incantation to keep his clothes clean.

The forest was a bit unnerving and sometimes very dark, but he didn’t get any sense that he was being watched at least. He’d managed to fill one of his bottles with a curiously colored moss without interference, and was now traipsing down a log. The trees around him were so verdant that the wind, which had been noticeable by the lake, hardly swayed their branches. Thus, the strange air of mushrooms and untamed grasses could not escape. He understood his Master’s earlier words about this place’s dangerous atmosphere.

He wondered about fairies, though. Master Patchouli had told him the other day that they loved to play pranks, which was what made Mistress Remilia so incredible for actually getting them to work at all. However, she hadn’t said what sort of pranks they played, and the fairies of the mansion weren’t terribly out of line. Master Patchouli had equated them with this forest’s air, though, so Gen kept on his toes. He’d heard some whispers and giggles now and then and was quite sure that must’ve been fairies watching, though he never felt their gaze.

While he was thinking about this, something ahead on his path gave him pause. It was a rather large, dark sphere, bobbing gently through the forest. He observed as it suddenly lurched forth and seemed to slam into a branch which had entered its shade. The sphere then fell, went around in a small circle, and continued on its way.

... Instinctively, Gen decided that avoiding this sphere was the best course of action. He checked his map, marked where he should be, and went in another direction.

~~

“... Where am I?”

Gen seemed now to be irrevocably lost. Where he should’ve been he absolutely wasn’t. He had faith in Master Patchouli’s map, but his course was apparently not following it.

He stood now near a small cave that was in an entirely different area according to the map. He’d gone into it heedlessly and retrieved some sparkling dust, and while he appreciated this opportunity, he didn’t appreciate the possibility that he was perhaps entirely stuck in this toxic wood.

Gen vowed: I need to learn how to fly. Indeed, flight would make this a non-issue.

For now, he decided to forego the map and just walk. He took in the strange sights, plucked some mushrooms into a sack Patchouli had given him, and admired how human hands had most definitely had little to do with the Forest of Magic. It was clearly an ancient place, and though it smelled terrible he couldn’t deny its beauty.

Eventually while walking along he encountered the black sphere again, and he worried it might’ve been on his trail. Taking another path, he soon came to a distinct crossroads.

There were two paths, however what distinguished them was not visual but instead olfactory. One path smelled like dust and magical regents (a scent he was coming to know), the other smelled like carpentry and fresh wood. Behind him was still probably the shadow ball... Rather than taking his chances on an un-trodden path, he decided...

[] to take the path with the aroma of magic and dust.

[] to take the oaken and wood-work scented path.

<>

[X] to take the oaken and wood-work scented path.

~~

* * *

Anchor: E3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1144054)

* * *

Although he now lived in a western mansion with a western master, maid, and mistress; although he lived with western fairies, and their guard likely hailed from Chinese lands; unfortunately for Gen he had not yet registered that Gensokyo’s youkai could be something other than Japanese. Perhaps Patchouli’s explanations led him to believe the Scarlet Devil Mansion was unique, or perhaps the idea had truly never come to mind amidst all the information he had to contend with over these last few days. In any case, he was unfamiliar with “western youkai” and so with western terror. Thus there was something special he experienced when he reached the end of the trail that smelled of wood.

The eerie cabin in the woods was not a common eastern idea. Certainly an abandoned home or building was grounds for anxiety, but the thought of a worrying old home, perhaps inhabited by a living evil, was not one that could ever come to Gen’s mind. Ordinarily a ghost, ordinarily a grudge, but then neither would be something he’d expect to find in a house like the one now before him.

It looked like something you’d find in a fairytale told to teach a lesson, not that he would recognize that. The home’s walls were apparently once stark white, but now moss crawled onto it from underneath, and threatened to take all color away. To the credit of whoever owned the place, the roof was well-maintained and looked like new. If the walls made you think this place was abandoned, the roof made you reconsider. Overall, Gen didn’t find this home uninviting, save for the pitch-black windows.

As if it was night, no light exuded from within this little cabin. Gen thought this didn’t make any sense; it was broad daylight so at least other windows should be bringing in light. He wondered if the panes were painted black, and so neared the house. The smell of shaved and cut oak grew stronger...

Gen peered into the windows, and his expression slowly twisted into concern until he was compelled to say, “What the hell?”

The home was full of bodies, in parts or whole, naked or clothed, hanging from the rafters or lined along the walls. Many heads were eyeless, many torsos featureless. What forms were dressed were dressed fairly, but this did not help the young apprentice’s impression at all. He realized that light was indeed entering the home, but for some reason it didn’t seem to escape. While trying to form a theory as to why this was, he eventually spotted a jar full of eyes. Seeing this, he backed away from the house.

Firstly, he removed the small tome from his belt that his Master had mentioned and tried to gauge his surroundings. He had the feeling that perhaps he should’ve just called out the shadow sphere from earlier, because right now he was almost utterly paralyzed with the fear of things one cannot understand. He could understand fighting shadows, but fighting whoever did what they did in that house was nigh inconceivable.

“What spells did Master give me anyway?” he whispered quickly, paging through the tome. He also tried to take the spell cards Patchouli had slipped into one of his sleeves. The maneuver proved too complicated, as one of the two slipped from his grasp and began to drift to the ground, eliciting an “Ah!” from the young man.

It fell to another’s feet. Gen froze, looking only at their feet and the card that lay atop them. This person leaned down and picked up the paper.

“Western clothes and a western spell,” said the other, who was apparently a woman, “but you’ll have to forgive me: I think you look Japanese. Do you have a hobby of dressing out of fashion along with your hobby of trespassing?”

He lifted his gaze. A blue dress, a pink sash at the waist...

“Actually, could you perhaps be...”

White capelet, mostly homely...

“... the new arrival?”

A beautiful face. Blood hailing from Slavic nations? Golden hair and clear-sky eyes.

“Patchouli’s favored outsider.”

Gen stood before the master of this house, and he had no composure.

“You already have spell cards,” she said, smiling on the paper in her hand. “That’s very impressive – ah! Where are my manners? It’s nice to meet you. My name is Alice Margatroid. Would you like to come inside?”

“And have you tear me apart!? There are limits to my mental endurance!” Gen finally found his voice.

“Excuse me?” asked Alice.

“You know that I’m an outsider? You’ll not find me another easy kill...!”

Alice said nothing, looking at Gen with his spell card over her lips.

“Declare it! Rules or no rules, I’ll find some way to bring you down! I-I’m not gonna die here!”

“You seem to be misunderstanding something,” Alice replied. “Won’t you come inside? I’ll put on tea.”

“I may not have been here very long but I already know how strange you youkai can be. I’m not going to get wrapped up into your pace.”

“What’s your name, student of the library?”

“My... name?” Gen asked, his vigor fading. “It’s Gen,” he answered, “Itou Gen.”

“Mister Gen, I think you and I can have a very good conversation, but it’s quite hot today and I’d rather speak inside. I assure you, I have no intention to eat you or anyone. Please,” and she politely gestured to her door. Her expression then revealed that she’d realized something and she added: “I’ll put on a light. It’s much less scary that way.”

Gen thought about this for as long as he felt he could without losing the woman’s hospitality. If this was a barefaced lie, he would find it very hard to survive within the small confines of the bizarre home. But, something in her words indicated to Gen that Alice had empathy. He’d never mentioned eating. He’d never mentioned the lack of light.

It could be that there were youkai in Gensokyo who could read hearts and minds, but if this was Alice’s ability she was a very good actor as it surely didn’t seem to be. Slowly, Gen lowered his guard.

“Sorry,” he said, “sorry, I’ve just...”

“It was a misunderstanding,” spoke Alice as she came in close. She put a hand on his back, and guided him to her home. “But you had every right to be afraid. Come, I should properly welcome you to Gensokyo.”

~~

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Anchor: F3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1174935)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-C85bKZWqY> ]  
[Frontier Village Dali - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

Gen now sat in the sufficiently brighter home of Alice Margatroid, who he now knew to be a puppet maker and puppeteer. This made many other things come to logical sense in his mind, but honestly didn’t do much to reassure his spirit. Even well-lit, this home full of dismembered and naked effigies wasn’t ideal for one’s sanity. He was thankful it was all much easier to accept, though: he hadn’t realized how small the dolls’ bodies and parts had been, and he’d completely passed over the visible joints. Still, he thought, she should just keep those eyes in a drawer or cupboard rather than a jar.

“You’re a resident of the mansion, so you’re fine with English tea, no?”

Alice approached him with a question, saucer, and teacup. He told her it was fine, and gingerly held the cup at its handle, yet to drink.

Alice Margatroid’s friendliness was, right now, something he found difficult to receive. At Scarlet Devil Mansion he was able to maintain amicability with man-eaters like the gate guard because he knew that guard would not harm a ward of her master and the librarian. Out here in the wilds of Gensokyo, he had no such assurance, and so was suspicious all the time.

Still, he had decided to relax much more since accepting the doll-maker’s hospitality. He thought he would take this time to at least figure her out, after which he would surely make wide and sweeping judgments of any Gensokyo residents he’d meet in the future.

“So what brought you to my home today, Mister Gen?” asked the puppeteer, sitting across from him at her table. They sat beside a window revealing the pretty forest outside that contrasted harshly with her disturbing home.

“Chance,” Gen was quick to answer.

“Maybe... fairies?”

“Fairies?”

Alice looked out her window, holding her cup with both hands. Her expression was very gentle as she delivered her explanation: “There are many fairies in The Forest of Magic; they enjoy playing with anyone who enters it by confusing their sense of direction, for example—” she sipped from her teacup and glanced at him “—though it’s often in good fun, their carelessness could kill you.”

“... I think I should ask how,” he said, now slowly wiping the rim of his cup with his thumb.

“It’s quite a wild and natural forest;” Alice explained, moving a finger through the air as she did so, “not all the ground is even. Slip, fall, and your neck is broken.”

_Ah, so that’s what Master had meant... Fairies, huh?_

“They won’t usually attack you, even if you have no magic. They’re all quite weak and scaredy-cats,” Alice was still waving her finger as she elucidated for Gen, and she next turned her palm up and pointed at him with a lightly amused look. “Like you,” she said, “young magician.”

Gen’s returning smile trembled a little, but he managed to lift his teacup to it and take a drink before replying: “Can you blame me, finding a despicable-looking house like this?”

Alice’s eyebrows rose briefly before she smiled again. “Sakuya did tell me you had a smart mouth,” she said, “I was wondering where it was.”

 _Sakuya,_ thought Gen as he licked a bit of tea from his upper lip. _Of_ course _it was Miss Sakuya... rumor of my existence hasn’t spread because she’s yet to sufficiently spread it._ He sighed thinking this and closed his eyes, half smiling. He leaned back into his chair and drank again.

“Have you calmed down?” Alice asked.

“Heavens, no! I’m still thinking of a way to get out of this.”

“Really, why did you come to my house?”

“I wasn’t kidding, it was chance,” said Gen, opening his eyes and gesturing toward Alice with his cup, “I was trying to avoid something that, at the time, I’d found potentially more threatening than you.”

“I’m rather strong, but would you really call me threatening?”

“... No,” he admitted, slowly returning to a more polite posture. “I’m just really lacking in trust right now.”

“So you’re training to become a magician...” Alice said in a whisper, leaning forward and putting her elbows up on the table. “But you’ve really not been here long,” she shrugged and continued, “That makes sense.”

“I’m... correct in assuming you’re not human, right?” he asked. “Why are you being so kind to me? Is it really something nefarious?”

“If it was, would I really tell you?” Alice offered a look of pity to Gen before clarifying, “I’m actually a Magician, which indeed makes me a youkai. I don’t do much to terrify humans beyond using my house. After all—” Alice sat up straight and put her hands in her lap “—I used to be human myself.”

“Ah...” Gen replied, then followed with “... Hah?”

“The Magician species,” Alice said, “is either natural-born or attained through concoctions and spells. In my case, I stopped my aging and my need for any kind of sustenance in pursuit of magical research.” She lifted one of her hands and wiggled her fingers. Upon doing so, a little doll came up to Gen’s side and bowed to him. Alice then finished speaking with the statement: “And my research is into sorcery and puppeteering.”

“Puppets...” He observed Alice’s clearly finely-crafted doll. “I really wouldn’t have thought of a magician using puppets.”

“It’s really very interesting.”

“A person who creates model robots would say the same of the tedious process,” Gen said dismissively.

“Aren’t you rude.”

“Comparing it to my master’s magic, a magic used in children’s shows doesn’t exactly set my heart on fire.”

“I think before you leave here today I’m going to have to bury you with my dolls.”

Gen honestly smiled at this.

“Bring it on,” he challenged. “Master Patchouli demanded I use those spell cards, at least.”

“Hmm.” Alice was now pondering, gazing at Gen while beckoning the puppet next to him to her side. “You seem really adaptive, Mister Gen,” she commented.

“Truthfully, I’m still very apprehensive right now,” he next finished his tea, and said, “and truthfully, I’m hoping you didn’t put anything in this tea.”

“It would be too late for you if I had,” she told him.

“Miss Alice,” spoke Gen while raising a hand to the air and draping his other arm over his seat, “I do believe it was too late for me the moment I stepped into this forest.”

“Would you mind telling me what philosophy it is you’re following ever since your arrival?”

“Be a coward, be brave,” he said, “until cowardice is no longer of any worth. This is a mad world, and hiding away all the time in it would only make me a waiting meal for hungry monsters. However, I can’t forget: caution will be my only shield for now as I make my foolish way.” He looked Alice in the eyes next and finished with, “’Let me one day march through dream and nightmare lands with hand of fire and heart of flame.’ That sort of silly thought now drives me.”

“I see,” replied Alice, looking satisfied, “so this is why you’re Patchouli’s favored.”

“Hm?”

“I haven’t known the Devil’s Friend for very long, but from what I can tell although it’s not the same, the way the two of you think is very similar.” Alice smiled at Gen and told him: “When that girl is honest, she shines more than any other. I know this: she’s very excited about you.”

“H-Hmm...” Gen put the hand he’d raised into the air to his face and broke his gaze with Alice. Although he’d not given it too much thought, his connection and bond with Patchouli was presently a complicated one. He wanted to make no assumptions about an apprenticeship so young, but he did feel the two of them recognized there was something to benefit of becoming close. He wanted to make no assumptions... but if Patchouli could pride herself in him, he would probably be unable to do anything else other than smile.

“So,” Alice changed the subject, “you’re in the forest to collect some things?”

“Oh... yes,” he said, looking at the jars attached to his belt.

“How about this...?” Alice began. “I’ve noticed one of your jars is unfilled. Let’s have a spell card duel. If you beat me, I’ll help you find a rare ingredient. If I beat you, I’ll give you something to bother Patchouli instead.”

“Bothering Master...” Gen muttered, “that seems very dangerous.”

“Especially for you, hm? Falling outside the rules. But, I will not kill you, you can rest assured with that,” Alice spoke frankly. “Well? What do you say?”

Gen did not answer immediately. He knew his answer, but didn’t know his odds. Unable to fly, he’d certainly have trouble contending with Alice, and following a proper duel he could not deploy any tricks or gimmicks. Come to think of it, he wondered if Alice might go easy on him, knowing how much of a novice he was. At any rate, it would perhaps be decent practice, with or without flight. And that prospect of victory... it was powerfully motivating.

“Absolutely,” Gen answered, “I’ll absolutely take you on.”

~~

* * *

Anchor: G3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2282447)

* * *

... However, in a display of anticlimax, as soon as they’d gone through Alice’s front door Gen put up his hand and said, “Wait,” followed by a request to actually review his magic arsenal. Now he sat cross-legged on a tree stump in the cabin’s front yard, paging through the various tomes his Master had given him.

Alice stood close by, and was taking this opportunity to use puppets to clean the outer walls of her house. According to her, the moss was recent and probably the result of a certain kind of being’s rampant mischiefs. And so, she had the dolls draw up buckets from a nearby stream and splash and scrub the walls. Furthermore, they scattered moisture across the lawn and a small flowerbed for watering. Alice talked to Gen as she worked, chastising him: “Why didn’t you study before you left the mansion? I wouldn’t expect a student of that librarian’s not to dive into a book long before deciding to actually head out and see what it described.”

“It’s precisely because I’m her student that I did no studying,” Gen replied, still focused on reading. He expounded with: “Master Patchouli told me to not waste daylight, so I didn’t.” After saying this, he looked at Alice with a smirk and said, “Really, the idea of me floundering before a mortal threat probably amused her.”

“Honestly,” Alice sighed, “such an unreasonable Gensokyo.”

Gen finished the grimoire he had been examining and began to compare the spell cards he had with the relevant inscriptions from the small book he’d been given.

The first of the two was Air Sign: “Tengu Gusts”: a magic hailing from Europe but with a Japanese name. Of the Eastern magics Patchouli liked to use, there was no category for “air” like that which existed in the fantasy-classic four elements. Of course, this spell had been created by his Master (so it was signed), almost as if to tell him that her magic was indeed a preference, and she still knew much more. So here he had some sorcery specialized for the outdoors (noted to not be used inside). Its “bullets” would be improvised when it called upon vicious tiny whirlwinds – particularly useful given his environs. He thought, _Thank you, Master Patchouli._

Gen’s second spell card was Water Sign: “Morning Dew, Ephemeral Starscape”. In Patchouli’s book, a note was made: “Note: A romantic spell to only be used in the dim morning hours.” He paused upon reading this, made a face, and thought, _Why did she give me a spell I can’t use?_ “Morning Dew, Ephemeral Starscape” was only possible with rather strict conditions; casting it outside those conditions would do something, but it would be almost nothing. It was simple: danmaku made from morning dew on grass. It would’ve perhaps been useful several hours ago...

Thinking a moment, he put his things away and called to Alice. “Miss Alice,” he announced, “I’d say I’m good and ready.” He placed a hand behind himself and pushed off of the stump.

“Ah, good,” she answered. She hid away her dolls and examined her handiwork with a hand to her chin. She’d done a fairly good job, given the short time she’d had for her tasks. Largely happy with the results, she told Gen, “So, you’ve only got one spell to use against me.”

Gen put his hands into his front pockets and shrugged while he answered, “Right, the spell you picked up earlier was ‘Morning Dew’.”

“Assuming it uses the surrounding elements and not your spirit, you’re out of luck with that one.”

“That’s fine,” he said. “Practicing with even a single card would do me a lot of good.”

“Well then, let’s practice.” Alice lifted her arms and for half a second, Gen saw the gleam of thin strings extending from her in the sunlight. “Because I assume you can’t fly, I won’t fly either.”

“Thank you very much,” said Gen, unlatching the book tied to his spell cards and taking a different book into his palm.

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/watch?v=IKYb5wEM-ro> ]  
[Harvester's Dance - Sister's♯3 (Ganemes)]

“Now, to not waste any daylight,” Alice cast magic at once and taunted, “This Seven-Colored Puppeteer will show you why dolls’ magic should truly be feared.”

First he’d heard the title, he assumed she’d pull out seven puppets each of a different shade, but in actuality she was so named since she apparently used seven-colored magic – something similar to Miss Meiling’s rainbows.

Alice cast a pinwheel of blue fanning power from herself that at once cycled in on her and headed toward Gen. There was healthy space between each shot, and he easily slipped through the barrage. She then cast another in red. When he avoided that – another in green.

Early after his arrival, before he’d become her apprentice, Patchouli had allowed Gen to ask one, in her words, “stupid question”. He’d decided to ask what format spell card duels typically followed. She’d admitted, “Yes, that’s stupid, since I already told you”, but he informed her that her first description had been a bit... idealistic.

According to Master Patchouli, a spell card duel followed exchanges of special, usually patterned, “bullet” curtains in turns during which there were a few ways to lose. The challenged (not challenger) running out of cards resulted in a loss, being unable to endure under fire resulted in a loss, a “round” was lost based on a predetermined number of hits, and utilizing particularly powerful and reusable spells to erase enemy fire resulted in no loss, but was generally frowned upon. Something else frowned upon was neglecting to “capture” an opponent’s danmaku. This meant, instead of Gen gracefully landing enough strikes on the enemy during a card declaration to force them to remove said card from play, he would “time the spell out” – let it to run on too long and end – or get hit and lose the opportunity. In either case, he’d look the fool. There were some exceptions and other notes, but these were the basics.

Attacks like the one he contended with now could not be “captured” but could be “timed out” or “failed” on his part. Thus, he needed to use some attacks of his own, not through a prepared card, to shut Alice down lest he be dreadfully disgraced.

The spell book he now held assisted with Sun magic. He hadn’t practiced, but was familiar with the concept from what he’d read. The glyphs in its pages were activated by will, and when calling on them the Sun’s rays would concentrate into a weak, but serviceable offense.

He carefully moved left and right, and awkwardly shot beams toward Alice in a scattershot fashion. This eventually managed to touch her enough times for her to bring out her dolls in earnest.

Standing still, she declared: “Blue Sign: ‘Benevolent French Dolls’.”

Four puppets spun out from behind her and fired rounds at once, although...

“That’s it...?” Gen said, almost disappointed; the puppets only shot out an amount magic to match their number, after all.

However, before he could mock his opponent, the shots suddenly burst into many more shots... and then again.

He now faced a flurry of bright red magic. It wasn’t choking and commanding like Mistress Remilia’s, but there was a lot of it – too much of it, Gen thought. It swarmed out in a way that must have looked quite pretty from above, but to him it looked like he had to now dodge the results of a rude gardener with a leaf blower in autumn.

Making noises, he twisted and turned and was easily hit. Magic struck him at the side of his stomach, and he nearly vomited from the pain. He dropped to a knee and heard a shot speed past his ear. This provided enough fire beneath his bottom to get him moving despite the effects of his mistake.

Now, though he never ceased his counter fire on Alice, he found it very difficult to maneuver at all. The hurt was only of a moment, strangely enough, but when it passed he was still appallingly disoriented. Somehow, he managed to push Alice out of her phase and avoid any more of her attack, but he’d really just moved blindly through it.

During the next round, it was his turn to offer Alice a pattern. He managed to stand up straight and turn to another page in his grimoire, with which he called upon Sun magic of greater complexity.

... Just not very much. He launched crisscrossed light at the puppeteer intermittently, and she seemed almost to be nearly avoiding every incoming laser on purpose. Actually, wasn’t she? How terribly obnoxious.

When the time limit of his magic began to approach, Alice whipped forth one of her dolls, which immediately fired some kind of cannon-ish concentrated ray of heat: like something out of science fiction. Gen did not dodge this, and it seared into his chest, forcing him to conclude this round and making him feel like his hair had just been set on fire.

But, wasting no time he grabbed a card from his sleeve and delivered the normal incantation with flair, “Air Sign: ‘Tengu Gusts’!” The card was then ripped apart in a small but violent wind at his hand, and the little book still on his belt flung open, bearing a glass-like rune. This heralded a dozen winds throughout the area, tearing leaves from the trees and tossing twigs and acorns from the ground. This attack seemed to be random, and it indeed managed to surprise Alice a little, who leapt between the little tornados with her eyes a bit wide. And to speak of surprise, Gen was not expecting the flood of invigoration he felt from burning that card. He was now renewed and full of concentration. Alice’s doll no longer threatened him. This was not something his Master had informed him about.

He stepped lightly and followed the puppet’s streaming energy like one might follow a partner in dance. He also kept an eye on Alice, who, he noticed, was not keeping an eye on him. Rather, her gaze appeared to be distant, and she didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular. Her aim remained true, though. Gen could not neglect her doll.

Then, when there wasn’t much time left, Alice locked eyes with him intensely. He recognized this behavior, and as he expected, she focused her fire onto him with more gravity. He quickened his pace while moving along with the puppet and giving it all his attention, but then the pursuit stopped. Confused, he looked at Alice again, seeing that she was now making herself parallel to him with the speed of a sudden breeze. She lifted her hand and the doll came again, burning into him relentlessly.

This time, the only thing that truly hurt when Alice struck him and captured his spell card was his dignity. His stamina was now waning, and the zeal he’d felt at the battle’s start was entirely gone. Excitement was now replaced with desperation, similar to that of when he’d faced off against his Master.

“That one was somewhat tricky to graze.” Alice was now talking, and with a fresh, happy face at that. Gen had expected neither. “I guess it makes sense, since that was Patchouli’s work.”

He didn’t know what exactly she meant, but his feelings were undoubtedly confused upon digesting her words.

Alice Margatroid prepared another non-specific volley of bullets, and Gen realized he still had two more cards to contend with. If he honestly wanted to win this, he needed some direction.

The way he saw it there were two ways he could focus in an effort to defeat the puppeteer, but in his inexperience he wasn’t sure which way served better odds.

One way would be to put all his concentration into stopping Alice’s turns as quickly as he possibly could. As the sorcery contained within his “auto-fire” Sun booklet needed his will to operate, it also needed his will to aim properly. Up until now he had just been “shooting” – not “aiming”. Maybe he could drag himself through this and take her down.

Another way would be to give dodging the old college try. Master was explicit: spell card play was about beauty and grace. It was about intricate spellwork and skillful avoidance. Gen was a clumsy, untrained, sad excuse for a spellcaster, but in his defense, he had yet to truly, truly attempt to dodge Alice’s puppets and power. Perhaps he could focus less on the caster and more on what was cast. He might end the battle shamefully, but it would be a shameful victory rather than a shameless loss... Maybe. He was being optimistic.

Now, as he whittled Alice down and kept on his toes for her round, he wondered:

What should he do?

[] Shift into focused fire.

[] Shift into focused movement.

<>

[X] Shift into focused fire.

* * *

Anchor: H3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2346670)

* * *

He ran a hand over his face and through his hair, glanced at the book he held, and looked at his enemy. He exhaled and squinted ever so slightly. He mustered almost everything: near all his strength, near all his will, near all his determination into his rays of light.

Now his assault was like a magnifying glass before the equatorial Sun risen to its highest point, yet still somehow intensified ten times over. Furthermore sunshine rang off of his beam like a hose overwhelmed with pressure, splinters of light allowing his target very little escape.

When he ended her round, Alice regarded him with some interest, and then revealed a small and knowing smile.

“Darkness Sign:” she called the coming magic’s name and readied her paper, “‘Foggy London Dolls’.”

Her dolls came again and with them she brought out a blooming flower into the sky. It unfurled and its “petals” fell away, all of its pretty killing intent now speeding toward him with abandon.

But Gen’s only concern was the puppeteer.

Alice was moving slower – in fact, she was stepping at an even pace to her right, completely unconcerned. She was avoiding the core of his sunlight as though it wasn’t even present, only taking damage from its chipping fragments. In response, he took her example: he dropped his attack, moved to face her straight, and fired – met with the satisfying sound of a direct hit.

Meanwhile, her bullet-petals always neared him, but didn’t meet their mark. He’d notice them when they came too close, but this seemed to not be very often. Prioritizing his attention was working well! He even allowed himself a smile, his pride returning. Alice proved a somewhat wily target (she didn’t tend to linger in one place, regularly coaxing him to change position), and her puppets might have intimidated had he given them any mind, but he felt he could keep up with her. In a gambol they fought, and in short time, Gen captured his first spell card.

“Yes!” He shouted, pumping his fist.

“Don’t celebrate, Gen!” Alice words were like a cheer. “I’ve got one more!”

And Alice brought out her final spell card.

“Curse:” this word, and its delivery, chilled the air. Alice’s last word had no sign. What she said was what it was. The paper in her hand crumpled and decayed into a purple mist.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ECk-uo-kH2I> ]  
[Sealed Sword - Ancient Treasures (Oriens)]

“‘Eerily Luminous Shanghai Dolls’.”

Alice used only three dolls to provide Gen with easily her most elaborate pattern yet. Before he could begin to take it in, Alice spoke again.

“Alright Gen,” she said “let this be your first taste... of proper danmaku.”

In a spiral of color, her magic rose, and the puppets that cast it wore expressions and floated in poses reminiscent of lamenting ghosts raised on a morose witch’s night. They did glow, they were luminous, and the powerful lights they emitted almost seemed to submerge the world in sickly prism hue.

It was not as dense as the greater powers he had seen, it was not as aggressive, and it was surely not as complex, but to face a curtain of bullets was much different than to watch another do the same. It was... humbling. He at once admired and was almost paralyzed. The sorcery undulated before his gaze, turning in on itself and twisting wonderfully. Soon enough it came at him in triple-color spokes and giant lilac globes, and Gen remembered to shoot.

He decided to maintain his efforts in overwhelming the puppeteer, and not let himself be overwhelmed in awe of her skill instead. Alice did not move against his trying. She stood and received those efforts of his with a serene face. Like the ray was pleasant to her, she relaxed in it, and bid her dolls continue their splendor.

Twist after twist, layer upon layer, the lights came, and Gen did not waver. He gripped tightly his Master’s booklet and kept aware and away of what bullets came near. He would manage this, he—

He now faced a yellow wall, and though his eyes were wide and searching he saw no opening. Right—he could escape right... if he’d seen the wall many seconds before. It would stop him and he had nowhere to go. With nothing to show for it, he would ruin his clothes and slink back to the library.

... But he recalled: Patchouli Knowledge never simply lectured. An explanation might end in a few words, but a lecture never fell short of a quarter-hour. When he had asked for general information for spell card duels, she easily came to explain the specifics.

“And Gen,” she’d told her not-yet apprentice, who was sitting on the floor before a pile of unorganized books, “there’s a small detail of spell cards somebody as weak as you would enjoy keeping in mind.”

Remembering this, Gen used all physical power to drop to ground before the yellow wall, pressing his free hand into the grass.

 _As I thought,_ he had realized something much earlier while he’d studied and Alice did her chores, _the grass has been wet._

His mind returned to his Master. She’d told him even a particularly clumsy duelist might still have decent reflexes. If so, if they were quick, they could announce a spell card – so long as they had any card to use – and survive a mistake.

He let the wall strike him.

And on-strike he loudly declared, Master’s spell in hand: “Water Sign: ‘Morning Dew, Ephemeral Starscape’!”

“I expect you to have to cheat death one day, Gen,” Patchouli had told him while wearing that merciless smile of hers, “Tell me when it is that you do.”

[ ♫: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=203&v=ECk-uo-kH2I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?t=203&v=ECk-uo-kH2I) ]  
[Alice in Wonderland - Ancient Treasures (Oriens)]

 _Not quite right, but I’ll be glad to tell her this,_ he thought, wearing an expression wrought with exhilaration. The card shifted into liquid and dissolved, and the book at his hip tore open again, projecting a blue symbol.

With an otherworldly pulse, the sky seemed to darken, and all moisture from the earth shot into the air in the form of innumerable, crystal-like droplets. When they did, the bullets of Alice’s magic were all cleared away by them. She and he met eyes for a moment, and Gen saw that Alice had been happily blindsided.

The water moved between them in a way that vividly brought up memories of nighttime to both magicians. It seemed that Patchouli had crafted the spell to have the water refract light in such a way that, always, it would look its most stylish and best. Almost standing now, Gen felt as though he was commanding the cosmos, like the open dark sky turned around him. Though this was a slow-turning sorcery, it had very few blind spots. Alice was splashed at first a few times, but soon found herself bombarded as the water directed itself to its enemy in one swelling and utterly immense motion.

It was over in only a matter of seconds, and Gen found himself still as he looked through the resulting vapors of Alice’s beating. Then, he saw a light, another, and another. He could see her dolls still flying, and it wasn’t long before the Curse was continuing in earnest.

The mist cleared, and he saw Alice standing where she had before, water dripping from her hair and nose. Her hands were raised, and he couldn’t tell if she was shrugging or just puppeteering. Her lips and eyebrows were turned up so as to demonstrate pity, and she informed the apprentice:

“Sorry, Gen, but that wasn’t enough.”

Without hesitation, he lifted his book of the Sun again and took aim, but he wasn’t concentrating. His thoughts were in a panic. He stumbled to his left and his bullets went entirely astray of Alice. Next he knew, the dangerous glow of his opponent’s might was upon him, and he was to the earth, lost.

... He looked up at the sky, all sorcery ended. His eyes followed clouds less empty than his head. And, without any opportunity to try, as no one tried to get a word out of him, he knew himself to be speechless.

~~

* * *

Anchor: I3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1312537)

* * *

“My, you look terrible,” Alice mocked Gen, whose clothing was ripped in many places. One could see his skin beneath the outfit, and the face he wore made him seem at once lacking thought and full of reflection. They now returned to Alice’s cabin, Alice having tea and Gen seated on her floor. She had a towel around her neck, and as he’d lost the battle, he was absently concentrating light on her using the Sun booklet and one of its weaker spells to get rid of the moisture on her body.

At her comment, he looked himself over and spoke in Esperanto. His clothes were ruffled as before, but now they also mended (or rather, it was like the “time” of his clothes rewound, the damages removed). He redid the spell as Patchouli had taught him, and then gave Alice his full attention.

“I don’t feel terrible, though,” he answered.

“Now, I’m rather dry, so how about I give you your prize then guide you out the forest?”

“My disconsolation prize?” he clarified.

“Yes, just wait for me to choose something particularly irritating.”

Alice drank some of her tea and beamed, full of warmth.

“Ahh,” she sighed, “tea after victory is incredibly satisfying, even against someone green.”

And Gen returned a half smile as Alice finished her cup, this puppeteer brimming with joy.

~~

* * *

Anchor: J3

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/805402)

* * *

It was early evening when he returned to Scarlet Devil Mansion, making sure he smelled fresh and looked well before reaching the gate. He greeted the guard, who congratulated him on a successful first outing, and he entered the red-brick house with mild confidence in his steps. He found that the maids were still busy doing nothing in particular, though all who saw him took time to mention that Gen had been gone “forever”. Miss Sakuya agreed, and told him he should meet the Mistress later to speak of his long and storied travels.

This was all becoming quite quickly familiar. Though it wasn’t something he would’ve expected when he first awoke in the library, the mansion’s consistency was something he now found comfort in.

Speaking of the library, it was of course his first destination upon coming back to his Gensokyo home. He made his way down the basement stairs, and pushed open those too-large entrance doors, seeking out his Master.

“Master Patchouli,” he called out, calming to the scent of books and dust, “I’m still alive!”

Patchouli sat deep into the library, and when she heard him she raised her head from her work and told him: “Then, you had better brought stories and materials to impress me.”

... Come to think of it – her work? This was the first time he had found Patchouli doing something other than reading. Along with the common scents you’d expect in an old library, the mansion’s also occasionally smelled of experimentation, chemicals, and what could only be described as “magic”. Thus, Gen knew his Master must also perform more practical research and spell crafting; he’d just yet to see it.

He approached his Master and looked at the new (very large) table she was sitting at. The table, of course, had books, notes, and scrolls piled on it haphazardly, but there were also vials, bottles, droppers, stirrers, mortars, pestles, odd feather pens and ink, peculiar devices, ingredients, and a general assortment of items that gave the impression of a sorcerer’s laboratory. Ah, and there were snacks, so this was _Patchouli’s_ laboratory.

Resting her cheek into her hand, Master Patchouli told Gen, “Sit.”

He sat beside her.

She looked at him and grinned, saying “Welcome back, Gen.”

“Thank you, Master. I’m happy to report I’ve done everything you asked.”

“Of course. Don’t ever come into my library after not doing what I told you.”

“I’ll never forget it.”

“Mm. Don’t. So, what did you discover in the Forest?”

“Many things!” Gen declared.

And so he presented Patchouli with his findings. She and he went over each mushroom individually, explored the applications of the moss he gathered, excitedly explained the uses of silicon carbide, and examined an ancient twig that, according to Patchouli, was a gnarled piece of a fairy’s tree. Without even reaching his fourth bottle, they managed to burn the candles nearby down almost to their stubs, lost in their talk and lessons.

Patchouli spoke of her happiness that he hadn’t overlooked the potency of mushrooms, and was cheerful that he had managed to find a rare mineral ingredient (and the two of them took out his map to note its presence in the cave, as well as a warning to keep aware of fairies). She wasn’t impressed with his moss, which was allegedly very common, but she said she wasn’t disappointed – she had been honestly expecting Gen to return with three vials of dirt.

They talked extensively of fairies, and possible countermeasures against them. They spoke of fairies’ lifestyles and how their life cycles were almost infinite. She asked if he could remember where he’d found the twig, since discovering fairy homes was quite difficult. He asked about the mansion’s maids, and this too led into long conversation.

He learned very much, and even was able to apply his new knowledge practically in some experiments. Magic was varied, and “fuel”-based – magic that required materials – could be used to create exceptionally powerful spells.

“But powerful magic of the spirit and grimoire/runic magic: that is an impressive thing,” Patchouli said, at this point in the night exasperated and lightly wheezing. “If you can create sorcery that relies only on your practice, your soul, and your determination, and that sorcery causes exceptional effects, you can call yourself a truly great magician.” Patchouli turned from the ingredients before them and looked into Gen’s eyes. Her expression was calm and prideful, and without arrogance she told him: “It is what I have achieved.”

“So why have me study magic that uses materials first, Master Patchouli?” Gen asked.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Patchouli asked him in return, looking slightly annoyed now. “Your spirit is weak, your mind is weak, you have no practice. Novice Magician, you are nowhere close to what your Master is capable of. Be satisfied with your crutch.”

“When you say grimoire/runic magic, Master, is that the kind of magic used with the spell cards you gave me today?”

“Yes. As long as the glyphs are properly inscribed and the elements are present for your needs, the spell cards you used today should activate. They are some beginner magics I created to see if I was able. The magics that I normally use also require sufficient spirit and willpower to activate.”

Patchouli, seemingly finished with this small lesson, looked over the jars Gen had given her. She seemed to be counting them, and counted them several times with growing concern before turning to her apprentice and saying: “You were given four jars, Gen. Where is the last?”

At this question, Gen shut his eyes and looked instantly tired. He had hidden the last jar on a clip inside of his robes. Heaving a deep sigh, he pulled his coat open and revealed it as he had promised two different magicians, and the first he’d promised now stared between him and the bottle confused.

“What is the meaning of this?” the concern on Patchouli’s face had not left it one ounce. She reached into her apprentice’s coat and withdrew the object, brushing against his side carelessly and making his left cheek flush rose.

Gen did not open his eyes as his Master turned over the last “ingredient” in her hands. She put it up to a light, scrutinized it with eyes squinted, looked at it from all angles... but refused to open it. Finally she set it down on the table, resting between her hands, and turned to address Gen.

“I asked you a question,” she said without humor.

“This requires a bit of a story...” he started, now opening his eyes but not looking into his Master’s.

“I was able to participate in a true spell card duel today,” he explained. “My first. I put on a show like a court jester’s that you’d surely have been happy to see.”

“Oh?” she responded.

Now he looked at her and spoke his tale, gesturing like a showman all the while: “The Library’s Apprentice faced three spell cards of a Seven-Colored magician, and failed to capture two: the first, and the last. He made what could only be described as a noble effort, and he was very cool. You see, he had little to guide him beyond his wit and his dear Master’s words. He stood against a youkai playing easy as if they were playing hard, with all the sweat and effort that implies.”

Patchouli regarded her apprentice without comment, but her expression indicated that she was listening to him properly.

“Incredibly simple danmaku put him to the floor! He focused his attack! He captured a card and was flooded with a feeling of glory!”

“What next?” Patchouli asked, smiling.

“He faced half-decent danmaku and put himself into a spot that a child would never walk into! And...!”

“And?”

“He remembered his Master’s words!”

“What did his Master tell him?”

“How the weak survive! When all he saw was a wall, rather than climbing it he met it with his face!”

Patchouli laughed.

“Deliberately, I’m serious! His Master had told him—”

“Even a particularly clumsy, foolish, sorrowful duelist might still have decent reflexes. If so, if they are quick, they can announce a spell card – so long as they have any card to play – and survive a mistake.”

Gen paused and pointed at his Master, saying “There was a little more in there than he remembered, Master Patchouli.”

“Keep with your story,” his Master dismissed his claim.

So he continued.

“He called a sign of water at the moment of impact! He stood among mock stars, and called them to crush his enemy! And, Master Patchouli...!”

“Yes?”

“He lost!”

“He lost?”

“He fell like a rock.”

“Wasn’t he already on the ground?”

“Like, a tall rock being kicked over, Master Patchouli.”

“But he doesn’t look very dirty.”

Gen put his cheek against his knuckles, smirked at her, and replied, “He remembered his Master again.”

Patchouli then laughed, and laughed, and laughed, almost soundlessly, with a small fist to her lips and her eyes pleasantly shut. “Ahh... my asthma...” she muttered (Master Patchouli had asthma?). She looked at her apprentice again, stating: “I take back what I told you yesterday, Gen: you are an idiot.”

“I’m really sorry I failed, Master.”

“How did you manage to death-spell and still lose?”

“I basically thought I won and stopped shooting.”

“Gen, remember this: you should never, ever, stop shooting.”

“Got it,” he acknowledged her with a nod.

“So you lost against... Alice, it seems?” she wagered.

“Yup,” he said, “and she gave me that,” he pointed at the contents of the last jar.

“... Gen,” Master was speaking seriously again, so he sat up straight and removed his smile, “do you understand what a ‘gift’ like this means?”

“I understand what it means.”

“That prism-girl... is she trying to pick a fight?”

Gen did not clarify, as he wasn’t actually sure. Instead he observed as Master Patchouli raised the bottle again. He and she both looked at its contents, offering no comment. Within the jar was a healthy lock of golden hair, tied sweetly with a red ribbon.

“If it makes anything clearer,” Gen began, “she told me ‘this is for you’ as she handed me the bottle.”

“She’s trying to pick a fight,” Patchouli determined.

Although it was something he’d only read about in books, and it was also something that apparently no longer happened; for a lady to offer a lock of her hair to a man was an intensely romantic gesture. This “gift” of Alice’s said clearly: “you are mine, so make a swift return”.

“She’s terrible,” Patchouli grumbled, “she knows that I’ll have trouble explaining things to you.”

Gen chose to say nothing again, and so Patchouli continued.

“You’re mine, Gen,” she told him, looking at him sideways, “but... of course... I have... no...”

Patchouli groaned and gripped her face with her hand. She seemed to have a headache, and she uttered an odd and cute noise as she rubbed her temple. Gen had heard it before, and it was still surprising this second time.

Throwing her a bone, he said, “I know, Master.” _No romantic intentions._ “You don’t have to say it.”

Patchouli brought the jar near candlelight again and spoke, almost to herself at first, “Maybe I’ll use it to create my own doll. Do you know about Haitian magic, Gen?”

He shook his head.

“Agh, but I don’t want to open it,” Patchouli moaned, looking at the jar in misery.

“I’ll open it,” Gen offered.

“I don’t want _you_ to open it,” snapped Patchouli, shooting Gen a bit of an angry look.

His Master composed herself while gazing at the lock. Eventually, she put the jar down, held her nose, and unscrewed the top.

She next put a telescopic monocle on and adjusted its magnification. Then, with tweezers, she gingerly brought out the hair and looked it over with her scope. After a minute or so, Gen noticed that she was frowning very much, and so he spoke up.

“What’s wrong?”

“This isn’t a magician’s hair,” Patchouli whispered bitterly, “this is mohair that’s been ironed.”

“Mo-what?”

“Mohair, Gen. From an Angora goat.”

“You’re saying things that mean nothing to me.”

Patchouli set down the hair and tweezers, let go her nose, and pulled off her magnifying glass. She put her elbow on the table and placed her chin in her palm, glancing at Gen.

“The Angora goat is one which hails from European nations,” she explained. “Its fleece is called mohair, and one of mohair’s common uses is in the creation of doll hair.”

“So... it’s not Alice’s hair?” he asked.

“No. Are you disappointed?”

“No! But... you can tell just by looking?”

“It’s already curling. Besides, I’ve seen it already.”

“Curling? What do you mean?”

Patchouli lifted her other hand toward the “mohair” and whispered a short incantation. As a result, a small bit of vapor flowed from her palm, and the lock on the table became incredibly twisted.

“Alice’s hair can probably curl, but this kind of curling is definitely a certain fluffy goat’s. She tricked you and me, hoping I would say something embarrassing.”

Patchouli pinched the curly hair, raised it to her eyelevel, and whispered another incantation. The hair instantly burst into flame, and with a flick of her hand it was all gone.

“Mohair is useless for magic,” she said, and then added, “If I see that seven-colored imbecile in my library again, I’m turning her into dust.”

And it was Gen’s turn to laugh. Patchouli gave him a “What?”, but otherwise allowed his laughter. It had been a long day, and Alice’s joke was a good way to end it. He had thought about many things and had worried over more, but in Alice’s gesture there seemed to be an answer he needed. The fleece of the Angora goat had a simple meaning for Gen:

“This is Gensokyo. Enjoy your stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.
> 
> PS: I know why Alice is called "The Seven-Colored Puppeteer" (her grimoire, not for her nonspells and such having seven colors) but Gen is guessing at this point in the story.


	4. His Place in the Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen decides to tease the Mansion's fairy maids. Shortly after, a mysterious incident befalls the mansion -- sky and light filling its halls -- and Sakuya is the one tasked to resolve it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.4**  
>  [A4].[B4].[C4].[D4].[E4].[F4].[G4]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to <https://www.touhou-project.com/> Be wary of **spoilers.**

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Anchor: A4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1392260)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g-sjAqB-twc> ]  
[Deep Breath Deep Breath - Burn My Dread -Reincarnation: Persona 3 (Lotus Juice, Yumi Kawamura)]

Master Patchouli decided that before she sent out her apprentice into the world again, she would make sure that he was not only equipped well in items, but in mind. She’d explained that while sending him out into places like the Forest of Magic offered amusement, meeting an unfortunate end on a simple excursion would mostly make her disappointed in him, and be a waste of her time. Though her time was infinite, she said, she didn’t like the idea that even a little bit of it had completely served no purpose.

So Gen would be made to study, assist, and practice for the next two weeks’ worth of days. At the end of it, she would have him go to Misty Lake; though according to her there’d be some twist to this excursion. As always Patchouli proved to be an incredibly informative teacher, and he enjoyed the sense that his Master was genuinely trying to figure out how she might keep her apprentice alive.

For the thirteenth day, Patchouli told Gen to take a break. She told him she didn’t want his weak, mortal, human brain to get burned out when he finally went to the Lake. “Do something else,” she ordered, “but don’t come into the library. Don’t you like exploring? Do that.”

Now he awoke on that thirteenth day, and after dismissing his cheery alarm and finishing the rest of his morning routine, he wondered what he’d do next.

Patchouli had done a lot to improve his confidence, but he didn’t want to leave the mansion grounds. This was for two reasons: first, his confidence wasn’t _that_ much; second, he knew that if he went out before Patchouli had told him to do so, that would count as disobeying. Even so, he was happy thinking of doing so and not being too afraid of the idea. At the very least, morning tai chi with Meiling had been keeping his body up at least somewhat with his mind and he was fairly sure he’d now be able to outrun most youkai in pursuit of him... though he had little basis for this thought aside from vague memories of nearly killing himself to get away from a (very fast) ghost that chased him on his first night in Gensokyo.

After another routine with Meiling was done, he walked through the morning halls of Scarlet Devil Mansion and wondered what he might do. Something to not work his head much, he supposed. If he told Patchouli that he’d read a book on his day off, for example, he was fairly sure she’d chastise him harshly for not listening to her. “What did I tell you? Has your brain already shriveled from everything else I taught you? I simply have no patience for this kind of moronic insolence, Gen.” ... She’d say something like that.

So, what options?

[] Find Remilia!!!

[] Simply wander about, explore the mansion.

[] Tease the maids, that wouldn’t use his brain at all.

[] Tease The Mai... no, rather, just try talking with Miss Sakuya about things.

[] ... Mistress Flandre? This seemed like a bad idea.

<>

[X] Tease the maids, that wouldn’t use his brain at all.

~~

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Anchor: B4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1848743)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6J5M6CsgmD0> ]  
[One Problem Settled... - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

The fairy maids of Scarlet Devil Mansion were often told to work, and some even did, but mostly it was as if the red house was their strange playground. The combined efforts of so many effortless, childlike beings did have a positive effect on the state of the place – chores would get done eventually, and accidents were surprisingly enough infrequent – but of course the head maid, Izayoi Sakuya, was responsible for almost everything getting done in Remilia’s home. The workload was perhaps an 80-20 split.

Still it wasn’t like the mansion was constantly in chaos of rambunctious youths. Actually they tended to find one spot of the mansion to congregate in, though this spot changed daily. To find it, one merely had to approach the sounds of laughter.

Today, the maids had decided to make a base of an atrium in Scarlet Devil Mansion’s west halls. This was one of the few places light entered the mansion, and perhaps the only place it entered in such a great quantity due to the grand skylight. As Gen strolled into this area, he wondered what the Mistress could have possibly been thinking when she had it built. At any rate, it certainly was invigorating to walk into sunlight rather than wander through darkness in this place fit for youkai.

While he was still thinking, the room exploded with energy to his presence. He looked up, and the maids – perhaps around twenty of them – were running about and falling over balconies in some sort of mad preparation.

“It’s Sir Gen!”

“Incoming vagrant, assume defenses posishions!”

“Defensive pos... positions!”

“Mayday, mayday; are there any Sunflower Fairies!?”

“Li~brary~!”

“Hey! This is no time for songs!”

“Fairies!” Gen called with a shout. “I have come to form a truce, as a representative of the Scarlet Devil Library!”

Most of the fairies descended to the floor with this claim, though some fluttered in the air with their arms crossed or hid behind those with their arms crossed. A few closest to him turned to each other and spoke in heated whispers about what a representative was, who might be their representative, and no really, what was a representative.

Eventually they nodded at each other and one stepped forward to address Gen, “Well well, you think we’ve forgotten what you did, Sir Gen?”

Hands now in his pockets, Gen raised his shoulders and leaned in with his answer: “Master Patchouli said you fairies don’t remember much of anything at all.”

Many of the fairies nodded at one another and muttered between themselves. Gen heard little voices saying “He’s right”, “That’s true”, and “What happened yesterday?”

The self-appointed leader of this gaggle, a long haired fairy who was blond and blue eyed, thrust out her chest, put one hand on her hip, and pointed a finger at Gen declaring, “You may be right but you’re wrong. I definitely remember, because another fairy told me about what you did last week this morning!”

“Me!” came a shout from a green-haired girl flying behind another fairy’s back.

The commander pointed, “Her!”

“What did I do?” he asked with a smirk.

“You, uh... what was it again?” she withdrew her hand and consulted with the council of maids on this matter, eventually returning with, “Right! You used some of us as target practice!”

“Master Patchouli’s orders.”

The commander slapped her hands to her face, squeezing her cheeks. Baffled, she exclaimed: “Lady Patchouli!?”

Looking at the rest of them, Gen saw that they were mostly frowning and shaking their heads. One told her commander, “No, I already knew that”, and another nodded with a “Yeah”.

The head fairy then said, without removing her hands from her face, “Oh yeah, I knew that too.”

Gen now lowered his shoulders and stood up straight. The other maids were arguing about who was to blame for last week’s unforgivable crimes, many bringing up Master Patchouli, but many more saying “wait, Lady Patchouli’s way too scary”. Eventually they unanimously agreed that as Gen had committed the heinous act, he was the one they had to punish.

Gen wore a mocking expression and asked them, “I’m weak and all, but can you brats even take me on?”

One fairy of the crowd called out, sounding distant, “Where are the Sunflower Fairies!?”

“Don’t need ‘em!” declared their commander, who folded her arms and glared at the young man in front of her, “Aren’t we the toughest fairies in Scarlet Devil Mansion!?”

And they all agreed.

“That’s nice, but I came here for a truce,” Gen reminded.

“Yeah... Why should we have a truce with you when you’re so scary?”

Gen thought for a moment, looking off to the side. Then, he pulled his hands from his pockets and posed like a monster.

“You’re right, never mind,” he said, grinning, “actually, I think I’ve got a better idea since I’ve been here two weeks.”

“Negotiations have failed!” yelled the commander in a panic. “Regroup!”

The fairies flew into the rafters, behind pillars, and near the skylight. Gen stood firm and threw his hand into the air. Like this, he announced, “Maids of the Devil! I think it’s been long enough and my guise is no longer needed! I will now lay claim to the Scarlet Devil Mansion for the Scarlet Devil Library! This is an insurrection!”

One fairy gasped, exclaiming, “An inspection!”

“Ohh no, is Miss Sakuya coming?” another fairy worriedly asked.

“An insurrection is a rebellion, ladies. It’s a coup, usurpation! It’s beating Mistress Remilia in the name of Master Patchouli!”

The fairy maid commander flew down from her hiding place and shouted at Gen, “No way you will! Mistress Remilia is the strongest youkai in Gensokyo!”

“So I need the aid of the strongest fairies,” Gen replied. “I’ll take you all under my wing.”

“Stupid! You don’t have wings! Everyone!” she called for the other maids, and they came to her back, all hiding behind it one after the other in a shape comically reminiscent of a fan. “Let’s show this punk what having wings means.”

And she was met with a resounding, “Yeah!”

Gen faced them with a wicked smile. He pulled a small grimoire from his belt and flipped it open, the fairy battalion ahead of him flying apart and soon casting their magic.

~~

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Anchor: C4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2104737)

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Midday at Scarlet Devil Mansion, summer still high, and Lake’s mist rising thick and mysterious. It was quiet, and somewhat unpleasant. The Mistress of Scarlet Devil Mansion felt it was too hot, but there was nothing to be done. She sat in one of the mansion’s cooler rooms on a wide, pink-hued sofa, crunched up into a corner of it and reading a comic book.

Every once in a while the Mistress grew bored, and this book was just barely staving that pressing boredom off for her. Meiling’s recommendations were exciting, but unfortunately this was the latest volume in Remilia’s hands right now. She was halfway through it. It was hot. Patchouli had been busy lately.

Remilia leaned back her head on the sofa’s arm rest, put the book over her face, and flapped her wings.

It was like she was in the doldrums. Perhaps she should suck it up and bother Reimu...

“Mistress Remilia, there’s terrible news,” Sakuya was now in the room, calmly addressing her Mistress and smiling.

Remilia peaked from under her book at her maid and frowned. “You don’t look like you’re bringing terrible news, Sakuya.”

“But I assure you, it’s quite terrible.”

“What is it? It doesn’t sound like my little sister’s done anything.”

“The Scarlet Devil Mansion is experiencing an incident.”

“Huh...?”

Remilia sat up more properly and gestured to her maid. “An incident _in_ the mansion?” she queried. “What kind?”

“It seems little clouds are filling the halls, like the sky has been brought down to Earth.”

Remilia simply looked at Sakuya entirely confused.

“Furthermore Gen and several maids are missing,” she added.

“Gen isn’t studying with Patchouli today?”

“It seems that he isn’t.”

“Hmph.” Remilia now stood up, saying: “It’s very mysterious, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sakuya agreed.

“Well then, what are you waiting for? If the sky is in the mansion I can’t very well investigate myself. What if the Sun is here too? Have Meiling go to Flandre’s room to make sure she’s alright, and take some fairies with you down to the library. Your first order of business should be understanding this situation before diving into it headlong.”

“That’s very wise, Mistress Remilia,” Sakuya complimented.

“Of course,” Remilia said, “only shrine maidens rush into the unknown like that.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” the head maid bowed as she answered, then told her master, “I’m off to solve the incident.”

“Do your best. I’ll monitor the situation from here.”

“Yes, Mistress,” she confirmed, and then she was gone.

~~

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QQgh1_UeXLU> ]  
[Illusionary White Traveler – Touhou Tenkuushou ~ Hidden Star in Four Seasons (ZUN)]

Sakuya flew through the halls with a contingent of determined fairies. Mistress Remilia was probably right to stay in a safe place, as the clouds filling Scarlet Devil Mansion also gave off light. The Head Maid wasn’t sure it was sunlight, but she was glad her master hadn’t gotten conceited and rushed into danger.

When she neared the staircase to the library she suddenly stopped, her fairy entourage stopping as well. There were a pair of the missing maids at the top of the stairs, and upon seeing her they seemed to ready for battle.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“The new leader of the mansion ordered us to not let anyone get into the library, even if it’s you Lady Sakuya!” one of the two answered.

“There is only one leader of this mansion, and she has yet to abdicate,” Sakuya replied. “Are you girls really going to stand in my way?”

“Absolutely!” the other fairy declared.

“Interesting.” Sakuya revealed a half-smile. “This new leader of yours knows how to keep you in line well if you’re serious about going against me.”

The Head Maid hugged herself and withdrew knives from behind her back. Putting on a serious face, she addressed her insubordinate subordinates again.

“I’ll remind you who you are loyal to, and punish you both later.”

She flew forward and the rebellious maids raised their hands to shoot her down. Sakuya moved through their barrage with complete ease, almost appearing to swim in the air. And, in no time, she had planted a knife each into the foreheads of her disobedient maids.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured them, floating over their bodies, “I used the dull edge of the blade.”

“There’s... no...” one of the maids groaned, but then expired. The other quickly followed suit. Sakuya sighed at this and shook her head before calling over her troupe and heading down the stairs.

~~

“Gen was kidnapped and some fairies are trying to take over the mansion?”

Sakuya stood in the library before Patchouli Knowledge, who had been reading a novel today in a rare occasion.

“Sakuya, are you going crazy?” the magician asked with eyes full of actual concern.

“No, I don’t think so,” said the maid.

“What exactly is going on?”

“It seems to be an incident. Along with the matters of our missing second human and the turncoat maids, there are strange clouds drifting throughout the mansion.”

“Clouds?” Patchouli wondered.

Sakuya looked back at the maids joining her, and upon doing so one nodded and came close to show Patchouli what it had in its hands: a piece of one of the clouds.

Patchouli looked it over and ran it through a short gamut of tests, including understanding it through her senses. Once she’d determined it wasn’t poisonous, she tasted tasted it, shut her eyes in thought, and there told Sakuya: “It’s made of water and artificial light. I’d wager fire.”

“So it’s like a real cloud.”

“Real clouds aren’t made of any light.” After making this correction, Patchouli grabbed the cloud piece from fairy maid and examined it some more, a finger resting between her lips as she did so. “Interesting, simple magic,” she commented.

Patchouli then suddenly went still, squinted harshly, and went through a series of ponderous and frustrated facial expressions.

“What’s wrong?” Sakuya asked her.

“... Nothing. Have you asked those maids what they might know about the incident?”

Sakuya shook her head.

“Well?” Patchouli looked at the fairies that had followed Sakuya, demanding, “What do you think?”

“I think this sounds like a really fun game!” one of the fairies answered, oblivious and chipper.

“That the clouds aren’t made from sunlight... I’ll admit that makes it sounds rather fun,” Patchouli said, then she added, “But I feel like having the clouds illuminate at all was a foreboding hint. Sakuya, make sure Remi and Flan don’t leave their rooms at all; I think when you find the heart of this incident, you’ll also find someone’s attempt at making a Sun.”

“Why do you say that, Lady Patchouli?”

“Because if what you’re saying is true, the culprit is indeed making the mansion into a model of the sky. A sky needs a Sun and a Moon, but as these clouds are bright, I think the implication is our false sky on earth is one reflecting only the day.”

Patchouli returned to her book and finished with:

“If that false sun uses sunlight, that presents an actual danger to those two. If that false sun uses sunlight...” She muttered this, almost to herself a while, before meeting the human’s eyes and telling her outright, “punish the culprit without remorse. If it doesn’t use sunlight, simply punish them.”

“How will I know that it doesn’t use sunlight?” the human asked.

“Use this,” Patchouli reached into her sleeve and revealed a small, thorn-covered seed. She handed it to the maid, who received it gingerly.

“That seed will instantly grow when exposed to true sunlight,” Patchouli explained, “so keep it hidden until you reach the false sun.”

“Understood,” Sakuya took a small handkerchief from her apron’s pocket and wrapped it ‘round the seed until the thing’s thorns could no longer pierce through the fabric. Finding a small safety pin from that same pocket, she hooked the makeshift package and fastened it shut, then hiding the seed away somewhere else in her clothes.

“This should be easy for you, Sakuya,” Patchouli told her. She went back to her book again and further added, “Tell me when it’s done.”

“Of course.”

~~

She warned the Scarlet sisters properly and soon came to the lobby of the mansion. Along her way she would find rebel maids and dispose of them, but she came no nearer to the true identity of the culprit. The Mistress posited the theory that this was a god or goddess’s work rather than a youkai – that this was retribution for her acts not too long ago. In return for forcing night on Gensokyo, some divinity sought to force day on her mansion.

If it was indeed such a being, this would be Sakuya’s first time facing one. She had no beliefs in any gods, but she couldn’t deny their alleged power. She wondered about Gen... Lady Patchouli gave no mention of him in her postulation. If the culprit had indeed kidnapped him, she imagined Lady Patchouli would become quite angered, and if the culprit was using a true-ish imitation of the sun to harm her best friend, the magician would probably want to draw this enemy’s blood herself.

However in all honesty she wasn’t very worried. A large factor of this incident was the rebellion of fairies. After she’d received her instructions and advice from Lady Patchouli, she’d set the fairies following her to guard her Mistress, but none of them seemed deeply worried about the situation. In fact, aside from the truly ignorant maids she’d encountered while investigating, she was quite sure most of the maids in the mansion knew exactly what was happening today. If that was the case, she felt the culprit can’t have been a bad person. The maids were loyal to Remilia Scarlet, and they had no cause for dissatisfaction under her order. Whoever they followed now was likely playing a joke.

However, the moment Patchouli’s seed sprouted, Sakuya vowed that she would show no mercy and be swift with the intruder.

She now flew deep into the mansion, following the clouds, and her knives glinting with purpose in their light.

~~

* * *

Anchor: D4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/645659)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZkJDJO8f8c> ]  
[Great Fairy Wars ~ Fairy Wars - Yousei Daisensou ~ Touhou Sangessei (ZUN)]

“It’s Miss Sakuya!”

“Defenses posishions!”

“Wow, you really can’t get that right.”

Sakuya approached what seemed to be the core of the incident. For a while now, the inside of the mansion was looking more and more sky-like, particularly with an increase of clouds. Now, faded blue light filled the hall she was in, and cool air was pushed all around her. Six fairies awaited her, seemingly guarding the western atrium.

“Amazing,” Sakuya said to herself, stopping to admire the handiwork, “it truly is like the sky.”

“It’s awesome, right?” one of the fairies called. Sakuya looked up at her, and saw that it was one of her more competent, if not whimsical maids: Livy Mayflower. Livy had her arms crossed and seemed to be flying within a gust, her long yellow hair being tossed around stylishly. Her eyes, blue as the “sky” around her, seemed almost to be shining as she gave her superior a confident smile. “The Boss’s first order of business was making Scarlet Devil Mansion more suitable for fairies!”

“Oh my, were you displeased with the mansion as it was before?”

“Uh, no,” Livy said, immediately losing that confidence, “Mistress Remilia is a wonderful Mistress.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Sakuya replied with a pleasant expression, “But you’ve still been a bad child, Livy. I’ll have to punish you and the rest.”

“Sorry, Miss Sakuya, but you’ll only be able to punish us if you can beat the Boss!” Having said this, Livy threw her hand out forward and further proclaimed, “But too bad! The Boss can make the sky! Isn’t that incredible!? You can’t do that, Miss Sakuya! You’re gonna lose!”

“Unfortunately for your boss, I’ve been forbidden to lose,” the Head Maid told her with a look of pity. She drew one of her knives and said, “Come now, Livy. I’m curious how well I’ve trained you all.”

“Shiny Battalion!” shouted the fairy commander. “This is the last line before the production facility! We can’t let Miss Sakuya pass no matter what! Don’t give up!”

They all gave a rousing shout of “Ohh!!”, and the battle swiftly began.

Fairy danmaku was almost always simple. For example, up until now the fairies Sakuya had taken down would simply fire magical bullets at her in a straight line and either stand in place or move clumsily in one direction. They usually only demonstrated even slightly notable power when an incident threatening all of Gensokyo was going on, and even then their numbers were the only particularly threatening thing about them. Fairies didn’t organize, either; they had little sense of camaraderie, and when they joined together for an incident it was merely as a wide-spread, explosive kind of play that all wanted to be part of. Thus, fairy danmaku was almost always simple.

However, the maids of Scarlet Devil Mansion were different.

The ones that were a part of this “incident” that Sakuya had already defeated were only ever in pairs or alone, however she had _trained_ her maids to work _together_ in the event of emergency—their poor performance was thus to expected. Understandably, the ones now in the hall before her, led by Livy, were just enough of a squad to get into some of the formations they had been taught.

Not wanting to simply get this over with, and instead wanting to observe, the Head Maid watched her little ones separate into three, two, and one. Three swept the hall and turned the blue sky red with their bullets, coloring the mansion more appropriately. There was very little room to move in their spread, and while most of the bullets were the same shape and fired in the same pattern, their point man made sure to differentiate in bullet shape and direction. It was actually a little difficult to dodge, and Sakuya was pleased.

Two dropped in midway through the first squad’s pass and began firing two things: great circles of magic and shots specifically aimed at their true boss. At this point, Sakuya began to take the assault seriously, and fell into something akin to a trance of dodging. She kept aware of the field, and carefully escaped whatever the barrage threw at her.

Finally, one (Livy) flew to the middle of the hallway and did her best to act as a true threat. She shifted from pattern to pattern, pinwheel to waving bands, aiming to scattered, and Sakuya unconsciously smiled with warmth. Now, she returned fire.

Although their power was satisfactory and even made their superior proud, an unfortunate aspect of fairies – and another reason why the mansion had to employ so many – was that they were really not strong at all. A few in the wild who would appear during incidents had impressive endurance, but Sakuya could count the ones like that who worked at Scarlet Devil Mansion on one hand, and none were here. Once she began to fight back, it didn’t take her long to finish them all off.

Soon done, Sakuya flew over to Livy who was riddled with knives. The little fairy spoke in a warbling tone.

“S-Sorry Miss Sakuya...”

“Right, you should apologize. However, you fairies are fighting well. I’m happy with you. Good work.”

“Thank you...”

Sakuya continued, saying “It’s good enough I have to wonder how it was someone managed to get you all to go along with them.”

And she expected an answer, but Livy had already passed away. As fairies were beings of immortal nature, she would simply be reborn with the new day, but her supervisor didn’t like putting these maids down. Even if they hardly did anything usually, fewer maids meant cleaning and such would always take that much longer.

That’s why she sighed. But, thankfully, this would be over soon. The end of the hallway was very bright, and according to Livy something was being made there. It must have been the source of the false sky. Steeling herself for whatever could be in store, Sakuya proceeded again.

And inside the atrium that knew only day, “he” was there.

~~

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Anchor: E4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1338454)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0WzALopXC84> ]  
[Ruse Rain - Yousei Daisensou ~ Touhou Sangessei (ZUN)]

“But really, you fairies are terribly impressive,” the culprit of the mansion’s crisis stood at a high balcony and complimented a water fairy before him.

“Heheh,” the fairy giggled and blushed, not pausing from her duties. That is to say, she constantly summoned a stream of water from her hands into the air until she could summon no more, whereupon another water fairy would take her place while she recovered. The summoned water was received by fairies with the aspect of flame, who evaporated whatever came their way. The culprit, a magician, had several glyphs and magics in effect in order to keep a mad plan of his going.

The evaporated water was pulled together to make clouds; the byproduct light of the fire was used to illuminate them, and the fire itself was gathered at the center of their base – the west atrium of Scarlet Devil Mansion – in a great, rolling ball of heat. This was a facsimile of the Sun – or perhaps “imitation” would be a better word. Furthermore, fairies of wind spun a circle of breeze round the atrium, which the magician gathered to create false atmosphere. He expected by now that the full scope of his manufactured sky would have reached the mansion’s lobby, and so he allowed himself a chuckle.

Then, he suddenly lurched forward as a familiar fairy rushed into his head from behind. It was his alarm clock, who he’d learned was named Merremia. She tugged at his cheeks and complained.

“Quit laughing and make more skyyy!”

“At thish point the shky ish being made on itsh own,” he replied, his voice sounding strange from her manipulation of his face.

“I’m kinda annoyed I can’t make any sunlight for the Sun. Agh, I’m frustrated!”

She tugged particularly hard at his face, eliciting an “Ouch!” after which he removed her hands and held her at her wrists from below.

“If I made the sun from sunlight that would hurt Mistresses Remilia and Flandre.”

“You’re already a villain, so why not?”

He looked at her from over his shoulder and spoke with disappointment in his voice, “Are you like this because your aspect makes you naturally oppose vampires? You should be more respectful.”

“I’m saying you should do it, not me.”

He dropped his hold and decided not to explain that even if he did it, he’d probably have to use _her_.

Now, she hummed a song at his back and began to fiddle with his hair. He decided to take this time to really look over this strange fairy factory of his. Basically: he’d written down some magical seals on scrolls and set them up around the atrium at key positions to direct the flow of elements the maids produced and manipulate them as he wished. After he’d defeated the fairies in their hideout, he thought up the plan while gazing through the skylight. Everyone agreed that it was a “super” idea, and they’d all high-fived.

Every fairy looked incredibly happy in their work, and he was surprised they could be so organized. Then again, his Master _had_ explained that fairies and pranks went together like tea and cake. Finely tuned mischief was still mischief in the end, so of course they rallied with ease for this dastardly purpose.

He returned his attention to Merremia, who was tying his hair into a braid, and asked her, “You _are_ making sure no sunlight enters the fake sun, right?”

“Yeah, I can absorb sunlight with my wings. In the Outside World, it’s new technology. Did you know that?”

Did she mean solar panels?

“Does that mean you’re some sort of battery?”

“Huh? Mistress Remilia is a battery.”

“...”

“She’s made of bats!”

The rest of the fairies, who had apparently been listening, suddenly chimed in with a collective “Yeah!”

“You know about solar panels but not batteries...” he said with a sigh.

Merremia finished her work and leaned in so she was at the side of his face. Her expression was entirely haughty. “I know...” she began, “that Miss Sakuya is going to come to save her Princess soon.”

He smirked, but said nothing in reply. Merremia left his side and started laughing with her hands over her mouth and her eyes closed.

“You’re gonna get it, Sir Gen! I can’t wait!”

Once more, the rest agreed all together in a shout.

And as if on cue, the Head Maid glided into the atrium.

Everyone gasped except the instigator, who called: “Do not cease production!”

The fairies all nodded with fierce looks, and continued their work. Itou Gen descended from his balcony on a cloud he had thickened with more solid materials in the air in order to make it more tangible, and he met Izayoi Sakuya with flair.

“Miss Sakuya! Are you impressed?”

Sakuya’s face held no humor as she looked upon Gen, bringing her gaze behind him to inspect the artificial star he’d forged. Wordlessly, she reached into a fold in her clothing and withdrew some kind of white package.

“Hm? What’s that?” Gen asked.

The maid unwrapped her package, and from what he could see it contained some kind of barbed seed. She looked at it for a moment, then plucked it up between her fingers and held it aloft. Gen witnessed her in silence, and eventually Sakuya’s expression softened. She re-wrapped the seed, and addressed him.

“Even with this glass ceiling, no reaction. You’ve been thorough...” she spoke lightly, and putting her now-pinned cloth away looked him in his eyes while smiling, “Gen... I don’t know why I didn’t predict this possibility. I don’t think a braid suits you, by the way.”

“Ah...” Gen flicked at his hair, but didn’t bother untying it. Coughing, he answered: “Up until now, I think I’ve been pretty unassuming.”

“To answer your question: I am impressed, in many ways. It seems as though Lady Patchouli has been a good teacher to you.” She crossed her arms and relaxed her posture. “Though I’m surprised your behavior is this bad.”

“I only make this bid for power in the Library’s name. I am ever-loyal to my Master,” he said this with a butler’s bow.

“As I am to mine,” she answered with a curtsy. “But you act independently. Gen, to discipline you, I’m going to have to cut you.”

“Cut me! So violent!”

“It is merely my choice of weaponry,” Sakuya explained with eyes closed. Bringing her arms over her chest again, she looked at the culprit and raised her voice, “Gen... you may have scared our Mistresses with your actions today. Furthermore you’ve usurped control over my girls and bid them work for you in such a deplorable fashion. Finally, you have created quite the mess. Do you know any remorse?”

He shook his head. “None.”

“Then I will teach you...” she stated darkly, rising to his level. “But I first have to ask: how _did_ you gain command of my maids? Even with Lady Patchouli’s tutelage, I see no way you could survive the barrage of twenty of my most skilled subordinates in a confined space like this.”

“I find your curiosity flattering,” Gen said, and he brought forth more thick clouds to fill the atrium and give him space in the air. Once he was satisfied with the amount of false ground, he gave Sakuya an explanation. “You’re overthinking it, though. I just used a spell capable of clearing bullets.”

“A cowardly tactic,” Sakuya commented.

“I’m trying to be better.”

“This boldness is a good start!” Sakuya pulled out her knives. “Of the things you’ve done to impress me today, this gall has done the most!”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LI1gNmUnD_M> ]  
[Magus Night - Yousei Daisensou ~ Touhou Sangessei (ZUN)]

“You know, Miss Sakuya,” Gen answered, removing a small book from a belt hook, “I’ve realized we haven’t had the opportunity to talk much.”

“Then, how about we chat over tea when this is over?”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Yes,” Sakuya agreed, “I think it does, too.”

The two humans of Scarlet Devil Mansion stared each other down. With something like tension and respect mixed between them, they were silent. Then, when that feeling of a need for battle had risen high, they both raised their arms and shouted in unison:

“Come on!”

Sakuya would not be merciful like Alice. She came at Gen as if she had met her match, although she surely hadn’t. However, as the “challenged” in this fight, Gen held some advantage over her. For instance, he would be able to use more spell cards... assuming his endurance kept up with her assault.

The Maid of the Devil was quick to launch her blades at the Apprentice of the Library, and Gen was able to largely avoid them as he launched an undeclared barrage.

Today he would use a combination of the nearest fairies’ energies to fight, and since wind fairies were present this meant that again he would be practicing a western combat style of air, fire, and water. He used all three to prepare interweaving waves of bullets both aimed at Sakuya and sent out in a spread. She dodged incredibly skillfully, and wasn’t hit once. Soon enough, she had forced Gen to declare his first spell card.

“Air Sign: ‘Fantastic Turbulence’!”

It was a spell inspired by the few plane rides he’d experienced before falling into Gensokyo. The entire area shook with power as he rolled great wheels of cerulean magic in threes toward his opponent. Sakuya decided to “graze” these, though she did not seem mocking as Alice had when she’d done the same. She seemed to stick close to his danmaku because she _could_ , like this was the way it should be. All the while she laid into him with her knives, which surprisingly left no major wounds. He had to imagine this might be different were he a youkai or had he incited the Head Maid’s full wrath.

Sakuya had Gen’s spell captured in moments, and it was her turn to launch a pattern. Although she herself alleged to not be a magician, she summoned a quartet of glyphs that floated out from her and began firing spiral-shots. He did suppose Meiling had mentioned that magic was a wide-use kind of thing; perhaps “magic” was almost all-encompassing and magicians simply knew it best. At any rate, already Gen felt he was in no position to be fighting such an opponent. It seemed like facing a sudden spike in difficulty in a video game, and he dodged her fire in a panic. He didn’t neglect a counterattack though, and was still using a combination of three elements in a stream aimed at Sakuya. As if thinking her pattern was too easy, Sakuya herself began sending out _immense_ waves of knives in fans that intimidated, but thankfully seemed very open. It was just a matter of spatial awareness, something the Magician’s Apprentice had been building up over these last two weeks. Somehow, he managed to not fail, and the next round was entered as a slip of paper appeared in Sakuya’s hand.

“Illusion Existence: ‘Clock Corpse’.”

... This card certainly seemed to have a lot of buildup. Sakuya stood still, accepting Gen’s fire with her eyes closed, as some sort of fog gathered toward and within her. Eventually, she scattered some bullets haphazardly and drifted to her left. Gen thought this was a bit of a letdo—

He now faced perhaps near a hundred knives waved out before him. They mostly came at him then, though some descended in equidistant columns. Unable to actually process this, Gen rushed to his right and fell into the clouds below, still keeping his assault up and making sure he was in line with Sakuya... Was he? He looked up as the knives passed overhead only to realize that, somehow, she was further to the right of the atrium than she really should have been given how slowly she’d moved. He adjusted quickly.

 _Time manipulation!_ he realized. _She uses that in her spells, too? No, of_ course _she does._

This spell was fairly terrifying to contend with, and must’ve been worse without prior knowledge of the maid’s abilities. Thankfully, it was only briefly horrifying to Gen because of his knowledge, and he quickly figured out her rhythm. In due time, he had the card captured.

“My turn!” he said, and he cast forth a different pattern: something like falling rain, but waving slightly due to the influence of wind. No fire was used. He was saving that for something else, potentially...

As before, Sakuya handled it well, so he increased and decreased the rate of the attack intermittently. She simply zig-zagged through it all, correcting her speed as needed. Really, she was so beyond him. He was pretty sure he was going to lose this (though he felt he certainly deserved it).

A “killing” blade struck his shoulder and Gen had to declare his next spell card. He took it out and used it without delay.

“Air and Water Sign: ‘Mackerel Sky’.”

Once Patchouli had been sure her student was confident with at least two elements, she’d explained to him the various ways in which one might combine them. Generally, it was more about what the magician could think of rather than how strong the magician’s magic was. That said, truly _offensive_ combination magic _always_ required the caster’s spirit, and Gen didn’t have much.

Upon casting the spell, it felt as though energy was being drawn out of his gut. This is, of course, because it was. He still wasn’t used to it, and according to Master he wouldn’t be until he had enough spiritual energy to simply not notice it being drained. From how it felt now, he was fairly sure he already didn’t have much left.

His power snaked up his arm and toward his hand, meeting with the paper there and activating it properly. Though this entire process was near instant, to the still-green apprentice, this all seemed very slow. He winced, and a field of clouds encircled both combatants, filling their field of play. Less than a second after, air rushed through them all and split them apart into Gen’s intended danmaku. The clouds became cirrocumulus, or like fluffy scales slowly drifting ahead. Witnessing this sorcery, Sakuya actually momentarily paused with some awe. She began slipping through it all soon enough, but his barrage wasn’t over.

Eyes widening in surprise, Sakuya suddenly flew back as the clouds began dropping blue bullets, every other cloud producing a single shot in one-second intervals that shortened more and more. This was something genuinely difficult to avoid, though Gen imagined if his Master saw it she’d criticize its lack of beauty and the lazy implementation of the “rain” which shortly followed the appearance of these clouds. She’d be happy to know that due to rules of fairness, the barrage only lasted about six seconds before having to rest for another four and reset. Having the danmaku be constant would simply be obnoxious. Naturally his opponent, who couldn’t really risk moving much during the assault, used these opportunities to get _very_ close to him and throw _very_ many knives. He only got in two waves before she’d shut him down.

Sakuya’s next two attacks had Gen dodging like he’d been stuck on one of those recently-popular arcade dancing games, as she began using her knives exclusively and bounding them off the edges of the playfield. It was tricky, but he managed to survive her “ordinary” attack. He wasn’t so lucky with her spell card. He got hit many times trying to deal with that spell card. He was able to beat Sakuya at her round and have the position of offense returned to him, but now he felt terrible both physically and mentally.

He now stood still, almost shaking.

Sakuya ceased fire and deigned to address him, “Are you forfeiting?” she asked. “You still have more spells to use, do you not?”

“I—I do...” he managed to answer.

“Then bring out your ordinary magic,” she ordered, lifting her weapons again.

Gen swallowed. Being hit while using a spell card was a lot different from being hit while facing one. Allegedly, this, too, was a matter of spirit or its capacity... or something. To wit: get stronger, hurt less, get stronger yet.

Gen used another pattern, but its simplicity and meager output clearly reflected his state. Sakuya needed to only barely move to avoid it. In a surprising act of mercy, she did not attack Gen, instead quietly reaching time out and waiting for him to declare his next magic.

... When he would, he’d feel reinvigorated for a time, but he wondered about what he’d do for a finale.

“Fire Sign: ‘Midday Shine’.”

Strength returned to him as his spell card burned. His penultimate attack was a series of rays pulled directly from the false sun. One, two, three, four they aimed at the desired opponent, after which pellets of light burst out of the makeshift star and gently swayed throughout the field. This pattern really made the area sweltering. Although a fake sun stood in the atrium, Gen’s other magics kept its heat from running wild. Sakuya was clearly sweating under the rays and lights, but never missed a step. Gen stood still and allowed her to aim her knives. He wanted to force himself into a choice impulsively and quickly. He had two options. If he used one, however, the other would be locked away. One was a card he’d practiced with which would take some of his spirit to call. It wasn’t hugely complicated but it presented no risks. He could use it and leave this incident behind graciously... or he could use “that”.

Unpracticed, all theory, but if it worked as intended...

Sakuya caught his gaze and flung a single knife toward his chest. Gen knew that once it hit, his round would be over. Thus, gathering his thoughts, he decided:

[] Use a reliable spell card that has been practiced before.

[] USE “THAT”

<>

[X] USE “THAT”

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Anchor: F4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/866943)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGaneyDfyls> ]  
[Hopes and Dreams & SAVE the World – UNDERTALE (Toby Fox)]

... Right.

Although he expected and indeed on some level even _wished_ to lose here, he didn’t want his plan to _stop_ here and not be fully realized. Really... he couldn’t allow it.

The approaching dagger pierced his chest, and as he let it dully sunk into him, he drew his final card.

“Fairy Sign!”

At this Sakuya actually found herself exclaiming “What!?”

And he finished the incantation, shouting: “‘Skyfall’!”

His whimsical cohorts in the atrium all gave a rallying cry, he grinned weakly, and his card at once exploded into rainbows, wind, and fire.

All his spiritual power flooded out of him and his face was drained of color as the remaining fairies came to join him above his clouds and the elements filling the atrium whirled with fury. He wouldn’t be able to move now, even with the boost casting a spell card provided. However... this was an experimental attack. It was one that used allies, and one that was meant to be survived rather than beaten.

Meiling had told him she used fairies in some of her spells, and his Master had told him about survival cards. Both were highly spiritually intensive things to pull off, and a weakling like Gen genuinely felt on the verge of death upon performing this. Still, he stood best as he was able, and fairies came to his side, hiding him in a shield of three colors. Before Sakuya could no longer see his face, he stuck his tongue out at her.

Production increased exponentially. The sun pulsed with power, winds howled, and clouds erupted from the center of the atrium rapidly as the core of this danmaku. Sakuya, with intensity and concentration defining her face, decided the best course of action would be to find a path _forward_ through the clouds. Graceful yet fierce, she rolled and dashed through the bullet curtain, and soon came to Gen’s shielded form, whereupon she tossed her own barrage that was easily deflected by the energies circling him. She noticed: his fairies were also covering one another, meaning that this had to be a card meant to be endured. So, she withdrew.

Backed away, the flow of clouds suddenly stopped, and Sakuya looked behind herself to see that they had all rushed down the hallway, followed by air, light, and color.

 _He’s filling the entire mansion!_ she realized. Gripping her knives’ handles between her fingers, she looked at the other human and grit her teeth, unable to put a stop to this.

The attack then moved into its next phase.

The “Sun” finished pulsing and had now expanded perhaps one and a half times its original size. Now, like with “Midday Shine”, it cast rays of firelight, though this time the rays were first preceded by thin streams of light marking their future paths, and none were directed at her. Larger bullets of “sunlight” were shot out of the structure en masse, and Sakuya began twirling to keep herself unscathed. All in all it was a simpler phase, but she wondered just how many he had in store.

Next, three fairies with aspects Gen need not use for his plan came down from the skylight to attack Sakuya in a similar way they might defend the mansion. Meanwhile, rainbows spun beautifully and dangerously, bent from flying streams flowing near the apprentice magician. They would cascade in large motions from left to right, then right to left, forcing Sakuya to keep her movements very precise.

The next phase came as she’d finally gotten a feeling for this pattern, jet streams abruptly bursting forth and scattering bullets randomly. This _almost_ hit her, if only for not expecting it, but once she’d registered the change it was only a matter of dodging well.

Soon enough the winds quieted, and there was a calm, but Gen’s sorcery had clearly not ended. In what Sakuya felt _had_ to be the final gambit, the fairies at Gen’s side dropped his shield, revealing his now very-pallid look before entering an arc formation behind him.

“Do your best, Miss Sakuya!”

“You can do it!”

“Gooo!! Go go go!”

“Miss Sakuya!!”

While they prepared their last hurrah, her maids cheered for her, and Sakuya was surprised with herself. She felt... moved, to be honest. She looked down at Gen, who was now sinking into his clouds. With his head bowed, he gave her a thumb’s up, and disappeared below them.

The maids, the sun, the clouds, the sky, and all were part of this closing pattern. The fairies gave their everything into supplying “material” for the attack, raising their hands and casting with all might as sweat formed on their brows. From their combined efforts and Gen’s incantations and scrolls, clouds were weaved together and came out one after the other in waving lines. The clouds essentially formed a double helix, which was one layer of the spell to be moved through. Next, the fairies of wind whirled out energy in orbs, vaguely aiming at their superior. The fairies of fire fed into the Sun, which slowly and erratically deployed beams like cannon fire around the atrium. The water fairies also evenly distributed bullets in a mock rain (bullets which were very easy to inconveniently forget about), and with this came halos of prismatic light at the atrium’s center, seemingly only there for show. Finally, the fairies unused for the sky-creation magic did their part by spiraling shots outward, but again this was mostly for aesthetics. Sakuya thought: it was proper danmaku, it was a challenging spell.

Her maids continued to offer her support as they pushed themselves on, and she couldn’t resist a smile. Displaying obvious joy in her movements, she properly dodged, grazed, and – with pounding in her chest – finally reached the end, capturing Gen’s last word.

With its capture came an immense, roaring explosion of brightness and sound, and when it cleared, the maids all fell exhausted. Gen’s cloud-floor dissipated, and Sakuya found him kneeling and barely conscious on the ground. She dropped to him and said nothing as he made an effort to speak.

“Now...” he said “... make sure... Mistress Remilia... and Mistress Flandre see... it...”

“Eh?”

His thoughts faded as Sakuya continued to make sounds of confusion. Before his sight faded as well, he took in a wide glance of the sky he had created, and passed out with a smug look of self-satisfaction.

~~

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Anchor: G4

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2066495)

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It approached midnight now... but within Scarlet Devil Mansion, the day still remained.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rIqeC5Vz1RE> ]  
[紅茶が飲みたいわ - Touhou Scarlet Curiosity (Hachimitsu-Lemon)]

He regained his senses and felt warmth at his side, while a calm breeze brushed over the rest of him. Still feeling too weak to raise his eyelids, he twitched his brow in response to these sensations. The source of his warmth, something he was leaning against, then shifted.

“You’re awake, Gen, so sit up straight.”

He opened his eyes, but still couldn’t do what was requested of him, and only even managed to hold a blurry gaze now. Across from him was Miss Izayoi Sakuya, drinking tea and paging through a book. Beside him was his Master, Patchouli Knowledge, who he seemed to have been using as a pillow. He looked at her, not entirely registering the situation. Patchouli was reading a novel... how unusual. But of course, her decision to not react to his sleeping against her was so “unusual” it made him think he must’ve been dreaming.

Eventually, he had enough strength to pull himself away and drop his back into the sofa they were apparently sitting on. Patchouli regarded him with an honest, soft smile and asked him: “Did you sleep well?”

“No...” Gen answered, holding a palm to his head. He explained: “I feel like a husk.”

He looked back at her, and she shrugged before returning to her novel. She told him: “That’s natural. You decided to be a stupid boy and stupidly hurt yourself today, Gen.”

Gen finally understood that he wasn’t dreaming, and he couldn’t stop a blush flooding from his cheeks to the tops of his ears. He realized that although his slumber had been similar to what one would experience after taking pills designed specifically for the task, he had felt so comfortable and nice when his consciousness had returned and he knew he was resting on his Master. Honestly, he wanted to pretend he was still entirely unwell and sleep at her side again, and the thought made him blush further.

“Awake, Gen?” asked the maid who sat across from them. “It’s unfortunate your rest was unpleasant... For your work today you deserve a good one.”

He looked at his fellow human now, trying to calm himself. She seemed to realize his thoughts, and laughed lightly while turning away to her tea. Next, he tried to find out where they were, as it wasn’t the library.

They seemed to be in some sort of event hall or ballroom, but at the same time it was clear that they were outside the mansion and above the clouds. After all, this wasn’t his magic. Gen’s clouds were almost cartoonish and all aspects of his sky were haphazard. While one could say it was realistic, that it was also _fake_ was never hidden. This was just too real. Clouds were thick and thin exactly as they would seem outside, the breeze was convincing, the light was carefully layered rather than bullheadedly emphasizing blue... He was certain: not even magic could be capable of this.

Patchouli, who had been observing her student’s wandering eyes, informed him: “I couldn’t allow Remi and the little sister to walk through your grade school diorama sky, so I reworked your spells and added some flair of my own.”

He met eyes with her again, and after he did, Patchouli said, “It was still exactly the level I expected you to be capable of, and most of the material supplied for this modification came from your gamble. Good boy, good boy,” and she lifted a hand.

He uttered, “H-Huh!?”

And tender, slow, caring, and careful, Patchouli Knowledge proceeded to pat and pet the head of her apprentice, running fingers through his hair and optimizing her show of fondness for comfort. Her hand would occasionally brush against his ear, always making him shiver.

His expression and posture were stunned. He now... felt... _emotions_. Regarding his confusion, he looked at Sakuya for answers, his eyes asking if there was something wrong with Master. To this Sakuya shook her head.

“Do you not remember? Just before you lost consciousness you told me to make sure our Mistresses saw your skyfall for themselves.” Sakuya went back to reading, turning a page as she spoke. “Before I did, I had to make sure your spellwork was structurally sound, and so consulted with Lady Patchouli.”

Sakuya then glanced up from the pages and gave Gen a smirk, mouthing to him: “She’s happy with you.”

Patchouli now removed her hand and looked to Gen for a response. He gave one.

“Th-Thank you, Master!” He wasn’t sure why he was thanking her and decided, he should not think about why he was thanking her.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” she answered, not out of politeness. She then offered a compliment. “You at once think a lot like me and not at all, Gen. It makes you a very amusing student.”

Gen briefly looked to his side, sporting a quaking smile. Holding his eyes closed, eyebrows wiggling, he managed to settled it down from taking over his face. Then, he breathed out and asked:

“So, the Mistresses saw it? They’re happy with it?”

Sakuya answered this.

“They’re very fascinated and pleased with it. The clock has nearly struck twelve and they keep on exploring it.”

“While there was still daylight,” Patchouli said, “I had portals to some views of the day-lit Gensokyo from its skies. Ah, and that reminds me: another way I added to the scenery was to fashion the basement areas after the Forest of Magic, and to replicate some other areas of this land with Sakuya’s help for manipulation of space.”

“You... did all that...” Gen was almost speechless. This meant his Master had to have completed everything in only an hour or two while the day still remained. It had taken him almost three to just figure out how to regularly produce clouds.

“Remi saw fit to show _you_ her appreciation, though,” his Master said.

Still contending with the fact that this had all gone over so well, he stared at her perplexed and asked, “What? How?”

Patchouli closed her novel and felt along its edges, eventually stopping for something she felt between two pages. Opening the book now to those pages, she withdrew a somewhat large, gold-embroidered card. It bore a pressed rose flower and had been splashed with two small drops of blood which looked only recently dry. She presented this card to Gen and told him: “When I allow you time again, you should formally introduce yourself to Flandre.”

The card, written with superbly well-penned English, said the following:

 _To Itou Gen (written in the Eastern script_ 伊藤彦 _), student of my dearest friend Patchouli Knowledge and recent guest of my house, the Scarlet Devil Mansion,_

_In this long life of mine you have given me a new experience that is irreplaceable, and offered me rare opportunity to walk once more with my sister. New experiences and fun-filled moments are all precious to me, and an experience such as this – to openly stroll under and fly through a daytime sky, despite my constitution – brings me no small amount of joy. For your efforts, know that you will always have our thanks: hers, and mine._

_With affection, your benefactor in fate and life,_

_Remilia Scarlet,_  
_and also,_  
_**Flandre Scarlet** _

_–sisters_

Itou Gen finished the card and repressed a “holy shit” (in English) from escaping his lips. He also stifled a laugh upon seeing Mistress Flandre’s deliberately over-inked signature. While he mulled this sign of gratitude over with a hand partially covering his mouth, his Master reached into one of her sleeves and pulled from it a fine, steel-chained necklace with what seemed to be a ruby centerpiece.

“This is Remi’s gift,” Patchouli said.

“Gift!? Are you serious?”

“Remi does not ignore favor and kindness,” Patchouli said in a serious tone.

He received the necklace and carefully looked it over wuthboth of his hands, rubbing the jewel of it between his thumb and forefinger. Something was strange... He looked more closely, and was taken aback to realize this was not a gemstone, but a small vial containing red liquid.

“What is it...?” he asked no one in particular, having simply let a thought slip from his tongue. Patchouli, of course, told him.

“It’s vampire’s blood;” she said, gently taking the vial into her hand, “Remilia’s. Even if you slay a vampire with a stake they will hardly bleed, and whatever blood you manage to collect will burn with any exposure to sunlight. The glass of that vial was specially forged, and cannot be pierced by the Sun’s rays. With contingencies needed such as this to keep it, in addition to the difficultly of even getting one’s hands on it in the first place, vampire’s blood is an exceptionally rare thing to possess. I should also say, on top of all that and before anything else, what little blood a vampire has in their own body is extremely valuable to _them_.” Her explanation done, she spoke with importance, saying: “ _That_ is what Remilia has given you.”

Sure there must be insane magical applications for this blood, and fairly certain receiving the Scarlet Devil’s blood from the Devil herself held some sort of implications, Gen could barely manage thoughts, eventually just asking the question:

“Why would the Mistress give me something so... so _incredible_?”

“Because although you were stupid today, Gen, you did something good.”

“Good deeds are rewarded,” Sakuya chimed in.

 _What about bad deeds...?_ he thought, and again it was as if Sakuya was reading his mind (perhaps just his face).

“Bad deeds are punished,” she replied, “and you and the fairy maids have already been punished.”

“Yeah, come to think of it you really didn’t go easy on me,” he moaned, rubbing at aches on his stomach and arm.

“Yes,” Sakuya agreed, and that was that.

They all then relaxed. They chatted about the artificial sky, what the sisters had thought of the model Sun (which Gen was told he _had_ to see before he went to bed), and thoughts on being human (which Patchouli wasn’t, but she had questions they could answer). Sakuya and Gen had very different perspectives, since Sakuya had supposedly faced persecution for her strange powers. Gen was “normal” in his original world, apart from having curious hobbies, and so faced no such thing. It seemed neither of them felt like equals, but there was in this evaluation a sense of “not yet”. They had both earned one another’s respect today, Gen’s for being so noble and swift, Sakuya’s for being so amusing and thoughtful. Patchouli seemed really very interested in the two of them, and in explaining magic and the sky, and their conversations went on long into the night.

Eventually, Gen succumbed to his fatigue once more, and though he consciously recognized that he really shouldn’t do this, he ended up slumping into his Master’s shoulder again, quickly falling asleep after contact. She made no change in expression, and continued reading her book. Sakuya chuckled at this, and continued reading as well. The confused hot summer’s day thus began to draw to a close beneath the pleasant and cooling lights of a manmade sky.

And, deep within the mansion, two sisters held hands as they delightedly wandered the magicians’ artifice: warm, close, and unable to end their curiosity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	5. Wicked Things, Lovely Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen goes to Misty Lake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.5**  
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> [I5].[J5]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to <https://www.touhou-project.com/> Be wary of **spoilers.**

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Anchor: A5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/922975)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9ffzCvUar4> ]  
[Zidane's Theme – Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

Because of his stunt, Itou Gen was made to “rest” rather than go to Misty Lake the day after as planned. He stayed indoors, helping at the library and learning more about spiritual reserves and how to build on them. This took a week, during which he came to realize that a lot of ominous pressure that had previously waned on his sanity in the mansion had... just gone away. He was not yet a true resident of Scarlet Devil Mansion, or even Gensokyo, but he was beginning to feel like, at the very least, this place was somewhere he could trust.

Before they’d removed the daytime sky from the mansion’s halls, he and Patchouli had spoken before his Master’s much-improved Sun in the western atrium (the flames on its surface moved like water, yet it was on the whole perfectly stable: with such craftsmanship it bore an otherworldly, uncanny beauty that made him feel like he was adrift in space). She gave him more information, and warning, about Misty Lake.

“Misty Lake is a mysterious lake,” she’d said, “it is like the font of life to Gensokyo, and all youkai take some part of it. The mists it’s named for rise only at noon, and no one has been able to determine a reason as to why. We put the mansion here... simply because it seemed like it would look nice.”

‘Right.” He’d nodded.

“Because it’s popular with youkai and fairies, and has low visibility mid-day, it’s without a doubt a dangerous place. I wanted it to be the case that when you finally got there, you were prepared enough to deal with any aggression or lost sense of direction.”

She’d looked at him then and said, “But, I think I ought to prepare you more.”

According to Master Patchouli, Gen’s next trip would not involve walking _around_ this lake, but instead _walking into it_. She explained that there were several dangers above the water’s surface, but below it was almost like another, merciless world. In fact, “other worlds” were supposedly connected to Gensokyo in several places, so in her opinion this would be a good introduction to the concept. He was tasked to find a series of five distinct stones on the lakebed that, when brought together, released an obvious glow. He was told he also must, under absolutely any circumstance, _not_ attract the attention of, encounter, or otherwise interact in any way with the so-called Master of the Lake. Patchouli herself only knew about this master through reading and firsthand testimonials, but apparently Gen meeting the creature would 100% guaranteed result in the outsider’s swift death.

To be on the safe side, along with his other lectures and responsibilities during his rest week, Patchouli told Gen to research Misty Lake as much as he could. She seemed to think that in Gen’s next excursion, there existed many very severe risks.

Now he stood in the library hopefully ready for his trip, and Patchouli was casting magic and wards on him. Nothing defensive, she claimed, as she didn’t want to give him any advantages _she_ wouldn’t have had in his place and matching his ability. She summoned a rotating sphere of air around him that, in her words, would always “seek out itself”, whatever that meant. She also put enchantments on his clothing, articles, and things (among which now included the vial of Remilia’s blood he wore on its necklace around his neck and beneath his clothing) so that they would repel water. Finally, she gave him a tube-vial filled with a thin green liquid. Drinking this would recover his spirit energy if he needed it. She did remind him, though, that he wouldn’t be allowed to use it during any spell card duels.

Patchouli gave him a once-over with a thumb pressed to her chin and over her lips. Satisfied, she nodded and told him, “Alright, it’s time you be on your way.”

“Yeah, I’ll do my best,” he replied.

She then looked on him fondly and said, “Take care.”

Soon, Itou Gen reached the edge of Misty Lake. It wasn’t too far from the mansion, just enough that the Mistress probably didn’t have to really worry if the water level ever began to rise. Both the lake and sky were bright and clear as it was still morning, and Gen took a moment – just a moment – to appreciate the view of distant, playful beings and the somewhat faraway and vast Forest of Magic (noting the lake, itself, was not THAT large). He didn’t want to stick around very long and become some youkai’s mark. He looked at the surface of the lake, finding he could hardly see below due to the sunlight’s reflection. So, he used a large stick he’d picked up along the way to gauge where might be a good place to enter, hoping to avoid any sudden drops. Finding what seemed to be a smooth decline, Gen left his stick at the shore and stepped forward. As his foot approached, water was pushed away.

Like this he descended, the air Patchouli had called around him shoving water out of his way and offering him a means to breathe. The experience was basically just as unreal and baffling as he’d been expecting, and most distracting was the odd _tone_ that came when he’d gone low enough that he could be entirely submerged. It was suddenly loud, then suddenly quiet, and then raised a noise almost like everything surrounding him was incomprehensible whispers. When himself and the sphere, which had a radius of two and a quarter meters, had finally all gone below, these din-like whispers stopped, and instead now it was like a soft and atmospheric, modernist, Dadaist score had started accompanying him. Gen had to stop long before he’d reached the lakebed to hold it and process only the _sound_ alone.

When he’d... _kind of_ gotten used to it he decided to actually observe the scenery beneath the reflective top.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1BBtTYa-2NI> ]  
[Awakened Forest – Final Fantasy IX (Uematsu Nobuo)]

The view within Misty Lake was, frankly, beyond strange. The “landscape” stretched out a great distance, and there were clearly underwater caves here and there where little shining things would dart in and out randomly. Most of the volume here was dedicated to nothingness, and if not nothingness then shadow-shapes that seemed to be fish (ranging in size from average/small to freakishly huge). As for the lakebed: for whatever reason it gave Gen the impression of a kingdom. It was majestic, unabashed chaos, shaped by a thousand eras of forgotten things. The flora was too varied for one lake, there were some tall, ring-bearing manmade structures jutting up from the pebbles and sands that looked as though they held some purpose, but indicative by their thick moss that purpose had been lost for a long time. There were also a few...”mirrors”, apparently, that looked to be directly channeling sunlight. Fish and stranger creatures congregated around these, but never directly interacted with any. He wondered if they used them like heaters, or this was a situation akin to moths and flames. As for a distant view, Gen could see nothing. Not only did the lake seem to sink rather deep and dark, his range of sight was debilitated by the water. He looked up at his now-rippling view of the sky, and saw that his circle of air was connecting to oxygen above via several thin whirlpools, bending and swaying like tethers. He supposed these were his supply sources, and hoped they couldn’t be easily disrupted.

Now, looking underwater again, he wished he was able to say with confidence that he was a magician, because then this alien realm would have easily filled him with wonder. Because he was not confident, he began his exploration and search in anxiety, hoping that nothing would take great offense to his land-dwelling self being there.

~~

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Anchor: B5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1440155)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGNdwFExyDE> ]  
[Kind Magic - ARATAMA-荒魂- (GET IN THE RING)]

According to his research, the stones he was looking for subtly repelled one another: if you found one, you could use its gently reversing direction to gauge where another was. If you had more than one, they would all shift away from the next he needed. They’d had a lot of time to drift apart, though, so this did mean he would be wandering around the lake floor for quite a while.

He decided to avoid the “busy” areas of the lake and, despite primordial fears, entered the darkness where he might discover a particular kind of stone. There unfortunately wasn’t much to see in this way, and so he mostly kept his gaze to a meter before his feet, watching the wet lake flooring rapidly dry to his presence and standing seaweeds suddenly collapsing without water to float them. Although he explored more empty and shadowed parts of the lake, he made a point of not heading any deeper. He’d only descend if the stones he eventually found guided him that way. Speaking of, the kind he was looking for now apparently had a curious property in that they would “float” – not to the surface, but in place an appreciable distance from ground. This made them easy to see, so long as you didn’t confuse them for fish (though allegedly some fish used those stones to hide).

As he walked, he shrank, expanded, and shaped his vortex of air with the words Patchouli had taught him to do so. He also knew how to recast this magic if it failed... though not underwater (there was no air to use, and how would he even be able to incant?). He was trying to keep his mind off the fact that, once more, he walked through Gensokyo’s environs deeply worried. There was no real pleasantness in this journey, with its abyssal horizons, unsettling soundscape, and plethora of beasts and youkai he’d certainly have trouble with should it come to a fight. He tried to focus on the task at hand, and if his thoughts ever returned to woeful understanding, he manipulated the air again.

After some time, in what seemed to be a particularly still area of the lake, he spotted the queer stones he was looking for hanging in place and naturally spaced apart. At a glance there were perhaps fifty there, shone in slowly waving light and looking to serve as decoration to the water. He viewed it as some kind of incredible but confounding art piece, and stopped his march to simply gaze at this school of rocks masquerading as fish. When he was eventually satisfied with what he’d committed to memory, he stepped toward it.

But only once, because he heard something new.

“ _La-di la-di ladadada hm~ hm~ hmm~! ..._

_Oftentimes have we laid out,  
Toil nor danger fearing,  
Tugging out the flapping sail,  
To the weather earing..._

_Long we’ve tossed on the rolling main!  
Now we’re safe ashore, Jack~  
Don’t forget your old shipmate...  
La-di da hm hm hmm..._ uhh... _How’d it go~?_ ”

Coming in from behind him was a clear, full voice, singing in a strange way he was entirely unfamiliar with, not helped by it being in English. It was almost an exciting song from how this... girl(?) performed it, but her pretty and earnest voice didn’t seem to match exactly. Lyrically, tonally, he deeply felt this must be a song to be sung by men, but...

He looked for the source of the voice, almost entranced... But he kept to guard. He couldn’t find it immediately, but instead caught something swimming toward him from out some shade only after noticing the singing (well, now humming) growing louder.

“ _Hm~ hmhm hm hm~ hm~ hmm~  
Hm~ hm~ hm~ hm~ hm~mm~ hmm~!  
Hm~ hmhm hm hm~ hm~ hmm~  
La~ la~ la~ hm~ hm~mm~ hmm~!_

 _Long we’ve tossed...!_ Ah...”

Seemingly forgetting the words, the approaching...”person” (probably) stopped her approach, made what looked like a quizzical shape with her body, and moved along anyway, improvising.

“ _Rolling main! Why won’t you come home, Jack~?_ ”

And, somewhat speedily, somewhat lackadaisically, she passed him by, swimming over his head with song still in her heart. He saw that she had her eyes closed, but she moved with total familiarity in this space just as well as one would expect were they open. However, this meant she didn’t notice him. She reached her destination, the floating rocks, and finally had her eyes open to a quietly happy expression. Gen recognized what she was with ease, her species’ fame entirely global. This was a mermaid.

The mermaid was beautiful as mermaids ought to be, but Gen found it strange... Although she looked physiologically like the Western creature of fairy tale rather than the Eastern youkai of legend, she seemed in small ways distinctly Japanese, and not just for the short-cut, bottle-green kimono flowing elegant over her figure and draped down to obscure a healthy pair of hips. Bordered by cobalt hair done thick in curls, between odd fins where ears should have been, she had a face at once gently tapered and strong. He saw that in her sleeves her arms were muscular, yet the hands they ended in were pretty and delicate. So on... Really, it wasn’t very much, but it left the impression that her Grecian features weren’t all to be seen. She was a small and exquisite design that seemed as if she could only be here, in the Land of Illusions. The young magician was transfixed as she breathed deeply, lifting and lowering a distinct bust, sighing bliss while she cradled a pebble before her eyes.

“These ones~ are always nice~.” She was still singing, but it was only for her mood and she no longer followed meter or lyric.

“ _Yer’ wand’rin’ eyes! The swayin’ sea! Those swayin’ hips! They called for ye~_ ”

... That did not last long. She bounced left and right with rhythm as she continued this new, remarkably crude song and held that small rock of hers between both hands.

“ _But once you’re back! Lips don’t be slack— Pay her insincerity~  
The sea won’t tell, I won’t as well, boy-ya-go from port to port~!  
A man does know, heartache’s a foe, and yer an honest sort!_

 _Ohh~!_ ... Oh!”

Before she could break out in the chorus, the mermaid finally spotted the lake-diving human, meeting his eyes with an honest face and mouth still open. It was difficult to see... but her cheeks seemed to become a little pink for a moment. She closed her mouth and moved some hair from her eyes with a palm. Then, she leaned slightly forward with her hand over her brow as to look into the distance, eyes squinted and lips pouted. When she’d determined what was there, she looked suddenly excited, clapped her hands (which, Gen thought, was REALLY impressive), and then... deflated, looking confused. She extended a possibility...

“Hu... man...?”

And Gen...

[] answered.

[] remained silent.

<>

[X] answered.

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Anchor: C5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2399176)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sCRZFT-ByQ> ]  
[Descendent of the Shinobi - Final Fantasy VII OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

After a pause. And, after touching a hand to one of his grimoires. Naturally, his Master’s sea-diving spell was too complex to be used only by words, and written magic detailed and enforced the things it could do. One of those things was adding “sound” (not an element!) to the mix of things it affected. When this feature was invoked, sound within the shield of air that _hit_ the shield of air would amplify and be sent out through the water (or atmosphere, as the case may be). In so doing, one could communicate with submerged lake dwellers.

So Gen answered once he’d dictated the sorcery to change and confirmed with himself that he was okay with directly engaging a fish-youkai.

“Hello,” he replied, “yes. Human. Hi.” And he waved. He thought, he was happy that his Master’s magic was so well-regulated. If anything he said or did blasted throughout the water, where sound traveled particularly fast, he’d probably be chum within seconds to any hungry fiends listening out.

Once he spoke the youkai’s face immediately brightened with happiness and she called, “Ah~! How wonderful!”

She swam toward him quickly, and examined where he stood, turning around him this way and that with a finger to her lips. She seemed to be figuring out his magic: looking at its radius, and staring at the whirlpool tendrils attaching him to the surface. Eventually, she put her hands out behind herself and addressed him elated and loud.

“You’re a magician!? A human magician!”

“Hmm, how could you tell?” he asked, and made his bubble smaller so that she could get in closer (she seemed to want to).

Seeing this, the girl did just that, and pushed her hand through the shield of air with a joyful face. Soon satisfied with the bizarre sensation of touching swirling air beneath the lake, she answered him.

“There was a youkai magician here not very long ago with a youkai maid and I think they were using the same magic. I didn’t talk to them, though! They looked dangerous.”

 _Master Patchouli and Miss Sakuya, huh?_ he thought. Then, he thought, _I... guess I don’t look dangerous?_ while wearing a muddled expression.

“Well, you’re just a human!” said the mermaid, folding her arms and closing her eyes to a “come now!” look. She seemed to be answering his expression and her assumption of his thoughts.

“Right. I think I know the two you saw before. I’m the magician’s apprentice.”

“Oh... so, you’ll become a youkai?” she asked with quizzical eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve met a human magician who hadn’t after all.”

“I see, I see...” She was bouncing side to side again... she really seemed to be in good spirits. “So? What brings you to Misty Lake?”

“... Those,” he answered, and he pointed to the stones he’d come for. “There are five kinds I need to bring back to my Master.”

“Five?” she repeated. “Five, what? Is there something special about these pebbles?”

She presented the rock she’d taken from the collection and let it float above her palm.

“According to Master, when I get all five I need together, they start glowing.”

“Glowing...” the girl muttered, absently turning the floating stone over in front of her. After a few seconds, she raised her eyebrows and said, “Glowing...! They glow! You don’t say!”

He nodded. She plucked her stone from its position then and looked at it happily. After a moment, she moved her hand into his air again, pebble in her grasp.

“Here’s your first one,” she offered him the stone with a fresh smile.

“Oh... thank you,” he accepted it, touching her somewhat wet, but surprisingly warm hand in the process. The stone had the consistency and weight of pumice, though were it truly pumice it would’ve raised all the way to the lake’s topside. He pocketed it and spoke to the mermaid again, “That’s helpful of you. The stones look like they might be a little high for me to reach down here.”

“You’re welcome. In return, show me how the stones glow!”

He’d had a feeling things were headed in that direction.

“Is that really okay? For both of us I mean. I don’t know how trusting I should be of youkai... and I _am_ training to be a magician. You may not want to trust me either.”

The mermaid put her arms behind her back, gripping her wrist. She leaned in so her face wasn’t far from his and told him plainly, “Mermaids and humans are friends.”

“Don’t mermaids bring sailors to their deaths?”

“Those are sirens! They’re truly dangerous!”

“Ah...”

“You see, youkai don’t all have to be mean...”

She straightened her back and spoke matter-of-factly. When she saw that he understood, she extended a hand into his air again. Gen felt she was really, markedly, forward...

“My name is Wakasagihime. It’s nice to meet you! Mermaids and humans have always gotten along, so, hey, let’s get along!”

“Fish...” Gen repeated, hands now in his pockets. “Princess?”

“I’m not a princess, though.”

He took out a hand and accepted her handshake with a hesitant smile.

“Well, I’m Itou Gen,” he said, “despite my name I don’t think I’m nobility either. Let’s get along.”

“Yes, Mister Gen!” She cheerfully shook his hand up and down. She was... shockingly strong! _I mean I saw her muscles, but..._ thought Gen, eyes wide, _Wow!_ His entire body moved with her handshake. When she was done, she didn’t let go of his hand and instead asked: “Can you make that bubble only go around your head?”

“... Worrying question. Why?”

“Your legs aren’t as fast as my tail. We can cover more of the lake if I pull you along.”

“...” Gen really wasn’t sure about this. He glanced down at his clothes and possessions. Master Patchouli’s wards should still be in effect, but... Well, tempting fate seemed like a bad idea. Then again, he thought there was a little something insulting in not having faith in his Master’s magic to keep him dry. He closed his eyes for a while, noticing Wakasagihime was gently caressing his hand with her thumb, and eventually looked at her once more with an answer in mind.

“Well... Little Miss Princess, I’ll accept your offer. I’ll tell you where to go, so please take care of me.”

“You’ve got it!”

Gen whispered to shrink his air even further. The number of whirlpools to the surface reduced to one, and he began to float. The Princess held him tightly, and he watched as bubbles formed all over his body and things. He felt no moisture whatsoever and sighed with relief, though he still looked to be rather scared.

Wakasagihime brought his hands close to her chest with her eyes shut and whispered thoughtfully: “It’s alright. I have confidence in my abilities underwater. Don’t be worried.” Opening her eyes, she gave him a look of determination and said, “Now, let’s go!”

Gen nodded and said, “Okay. Then, first, let’s head east.”

“East!” she shouted, and he was suddenly tugged along with great force through the lake as Wakasagihime swam along, hand held firm.

~~

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Anchor: D5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1875339)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TL5J_B65uG4> ]  
[Main - Final Fantasy IX OST PLUS (Uematsu Nobuo)]

According to her, the songs she sang were called shanties and folk songs. Her kind entered Gensokyo quite some time ago and brought with them old English songs to sing while working on a ship or with friends. She mentioned many of these songs were sang at pubs, and added “Which, it turns out, is very appropriate for Gensokyo.”

Gen didn’t really know what she meant by that, as the residents of Scarlet Devil Mansion only drank tea. He’d yet to realize this land’s fondness for alcohol.

Now Wakasagihime sang again, the song she’d begun to sing before she’d spotted Gen. She told him these songs really meant it when they came to the chorus, and so taught him what to sing when that came. This was now, and they sang together.

“ _Ohh~! It, will be fine! We’ll all be home in time!  
To ladies fair, all waiting there: our dearest, lovely wives!  
But if ye seek to keep yer cheek, take advice from me~!  
Let down your secrets in the sea~!_”

Gen heaved a deep sigh and shook his head. The Princess continued, entirely chipper.

“ _You said six pence! She said two more! You said ‘alright’, and closed the door~  
Ye took her lips and then her hips- oh by the end, oh you’d be sore~  
But yer lady fair~ still waiting there~ oh she came to yer mind~!  
Ye stopped the dance, took up yer pants, and left the lass behind!_”

“Man...” Gen interrupted, “if I understand it right, that’s one raunchy song.”

Wakasagihime, who was disappointed at the denial of a chorus, explained to Gen: “The raunchy ones are the most fun to sing. They’re foolish and silly fun.”

“Sailors sang these?”

“Of course!”

He wondered how mermaids would know human songs... but then recalled what the Princess had said. He supposed the two races really _had_ been friends.

He was still mostly apprehensive, though. Mainly, he allowed himself to be wrapped up in Wakasagihime’s pace because... why not? If he had refused her and she was dangerous, she would’ve probably attacked him then and there; if she was bringing him into a trap, then that meant a delayed death at least. He also figured he could cause trouble for most things down in these depths by calling on air from above and dropping whatever swam to ground. He’d see where this went... If the Princess really was going to help him, then that would just be a surprising boon.

Eventually the two of them arrived at their next stop: a giant pile of mossy stones. Gen retrieved the not-pumice from his pocket and lifted it toward the pile, which reacted by shifting ever so slightly.

“Looks like this’s it,” he said, putting the rock away.

Wakasagihime was watching him, and when he confirmed this was their next find she asked, “The stones are magnetic?”

He shook his head as he answered, “Nah, they’re... magic?”

“I wonder what your master wants them for...” She swam to the pile and took a piece, handing it to Gen. “Don’t you wonder?”

“I assume it’s for some sort of ritual, but yeah... I’ve got no idea.”

They agreed to find the next one, which was in a busier area. Wakasagihime took charge there, and obtained a red and black rock while making sure no youkai went after her ward. She gave it to Gen, they sang more songs, and made their way toward some caves.

Gen had to admit that the Princess’s friendliness seemed honest, but he couldn’t entirely remove his natural prejudice against something so _other_ while he stood in a _place_ so other. He felt guilt over it... and this apparently showed on his face.

“Here?” Wakasagihime asked. Gen had the three stones in a sack now, and noted their being repelled by the mouth of a cave before them. He looked at the surface of the water and frowned. He probably couldn’t go in the cave and expect the magic to hold. While he was thinking, Wakasagihime took his bag, let him go, and moved to the cave’s entrance. She gave him a specific, sympathetic, and somewhat sad look. “I’ll... find the one here, then,” she said, “Can’t really bring yourself to be a friend, huh?”

“Ah... uh...” Gen wasn’t expecting her to be direct.

“Oh, I don’t mean anything by that!” She held up her hands in denial. “I just think... ‘the way things work here is pretty set in stone’.”

He looked at her with an eyebrow raised while he swam in place.

“When I meet a youkai...” she carefully began, “... I’m always scared. When I meet a human, I don’t think much of it.” She paused, then asked, “Mister Gen, are you an outsider?”

Gen hesitated before answering, “... Yes.”

“I guess that’s why you’re scared,” she said with a nod. She then turned around and gave him a wave, saying “Well, I’ll be right back.”

And Gen...

[] stopped her.

[] let her go.

<>

[X] stopped her.

* * *

Anchor: E5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2601182)

* * *

“Hey, wait.” He raised his hand and Wakasagihime faced him again. “I think I’ve been far too ungentlemanly for your kindness, and I would like to apologize for that. You’re helping me out and protecting me, after all.” He put his hands together and rubbed his thumbs over his forefingers, not looking at the mermaid. “I just, uh, can’t separate the idea of ‘inhuman’ from ‘fear’.”

“If—” Wakasagihime spoke suddenly, and cut herself off just as quick, thinking for a moment, then deciding to continue, “If... you’re that magician’s apprentice, does that mean you live in the mansion? I heard a devil lives there.”

He nodded, “One does, but for a lot of reasons I can feel more comfortable there than down here.”

“Mister Gen... you make a lady feel very self-conscious.”

“I’m just a coward... I’ve been in Gensokyo for just under a month and I’m wary of everything, but I’ll admit I’m much more wary of, uh...”

“Whoaa... say no more! I get it, I get it,” Wakasagihime put her hands up again and was shaking her head. She looked at her tail and said, “It’s the tail. It’s the tail, right? Too bizarre.”

He put his hand over his mouth and disclosed his thought that, “No, I actually think it’s beautiful, but...” The Princess blushed. He finished with, “I mean, it definitely tells me you aren’t human.”

“H-Hmm,” Wakasagihime huffed and crossed her arms. She then said, “I’ve met a bigoted human!”

“I really don’t want to be!”

“Then...” the mermaid swam up to him and raised her fist, “bump fists with me.”

“Uh?” Gen was perplexed, but listened and lifted his own fist. The princess struck her knuckles to his, thankfully without full strength, while wearing a serious expression. When this was done, she smiled once more and asked, “Do you feel better now?”

“S-Surprisingly enough, I do...” he admitted. In this gesture of camaraderie less formal than a handshake yet close enough to be surely amicable, he felt a very surprising amount of relief.

“I was feeling a little awkward, too...” the Princess confessed while she turned from him. “I think I got too excited, since the last time someone from the surface was down here I was too scared to talk to them. Sorry if I was too forward and it made you worried.”

Gen was unable to formulate an answer, simply blinking.

Wakasagihime now floated before the cave again, her back to him. She put a hand on her hip, looked over her shoulder, and gave Gen a thumb’s up, saying, “Let’s try this again; start off on the right foot and fin! Got it, G-Gen!?”

He returned her gesture with a nod and smirk, saying, “Certainly, Princess.”

~~

The Princess brought to him the fourth stone, one heavy and colored blue, and they now sought the final piece. Gen had brought his air back to all around his body (and dumped the water from his rock-sack), and Wakasagihime was swimming beside him. The stones they had were directing them to the lake’s depths and, just in case, Gen wanted absolutely all maneuverability availed to him. An abyss was a natural source of horror and monsters. Because of Wakasagihime’s presence, so far youkai may have looked hungrily at him but never attacked. According to Wakasagihime, this was because she was strong (said with a tough pose; Gen already knew, but he supposed she meant she was magically strong as well). He thanked her, and she told him standing by the side of an outsider was the natural thing to do.

Gen now understood that Gensokyo wasn’t simply hell for those who had slipped into it, it was only mostly hell. There were people in it, magical or otherwise, who were helpful. Alice was helpful despite having abandoned her humanity. Mistress Remilia was helpful despite claiming to be evil. Wakasagihime was helpful despite halfway looking entirely _different_ from a human. He remembered that not all youkai and mystical creatures needed fear to survive, despite what others had told him. He knew this: youkai sometimes were kind and sometimes were simply beings that explained phenomena that science of old couldn’t answer. Other beings of fantasy were similar: not every odd creature was an enemy.

Still, due to Gensokyo’s nature Gen knew that dread and terror were what most beings here wanted and needed, as the Outside World offered neither. He couldn’t be fully trusting, but he thought, _I should research bestiaries when I get back so when I next find something like a mermaid, I’m not a jerk to them._ He’d certainly learned about mermaids when researching the lake before, but he’d also learned about sirens and conflated the two. He’d have to remedy that flaw in him...

Now they came to the depths.

The Princess grew worried.

“It’s down there?” she asked.

“Yes...”

Down into darkness that seemed to refuse all light. This didn’t make sense: light would only be lost in insane depths and they certainly hadn’t traveled down at least a kilometer, had they?

“Gen...” the Princess addressed him, “let’s be very careful. There are no seas in Gensokyo, but it accepts all fantasy.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Take mermaids for example: we all came from the oceans, but in Gensokyo there’s only the lake...” She looked into his face with worry and concern. “The oceans have always been a birthplace of fear for humanity—and I have to admit it’s for plenty of good reasons. And fear forges youkai, you know? The unknown forges youkai... and some of the most terrifying unknowns told through tales have come from the sea...” She stopped, and gripped one of her sleeves as she peered into dark. “Of course, they’d find their way here, too.”

Gen peered along with her, and now noticed that neither fish nor even youkai could be found ahead.

“I know I’m strong underwater, but if we bump into something like a cetus or worse...”

“Don’t worry,” Gen said, worried but not showing it, “my Master left some incredible tools at my disposal. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“That’s my line...” the mermaid said faintly, her countenance dour with apology. They then both looked their environs over, and then at each other. With this, they nodded, and entered the depths.

~~

* * *

Anchor: F5

[[1]](https://www.deviantart.com/marv6617/art/The-thing-from-the-abyss-564558609)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8qZIdYOrdqg> ]  
[Iifa Tree – Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

**Once upon a time...**

**Be they fishermen or navy men, weak or willful, they would come in their boats and think like their lands they could master the seas.**

**These were humans. Arrogant.**

**And when they came back to their lands, soaked and broken and bleeding, they would write on their maps...**

**“Here be dragons.”**

**Yet, this was laughable.**

**Here were worse.**

~~

Itou Gen and Wakasagihime descended for a long time. They descended in silence, the Princess not even thinking to hum. When they reached flat ground again, they didn’t know how long they’d taken.

The magician’s apprentice lifted his bag of stones. They shook, and he knew where to go. He pointed ahead and told the mermaid “There...”

But neither moved an inch.

Gen looked toward the lake’s surface. They were certainly far down, but... really, they couldn’t possibly be far enough down for it to be this dark. _Something_ was _—_

“Something’s here...” the Princess whispered, and she got as close to Gen as she could. He saw she was shaking. Gen reached out from his bubble of air and put a hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll get what we’re looking for and go right back. If you want, I can go myself.”

Wakasagihime shook her head rapidly, not removing her gaze from the darkness. “No,” she said, “I can’t let you go by yourself.”

Gen withdrew his hand. “Hm, then...” he said, “let’s go.”

She nodded, and they moved ahead.

**Incredible.**

They both stopped. A voice was inside their heads. This was not something resonating through the water.

**Now with power strange, humans think the depths, too, are ready for their slave collars. And the mermaid... I wouldn’t have thought your kind so brash. So foolish. So dumb, really.**

Gen knew at once that they had to leave.

**I won’t let you be so impolite. We haven’t even shared our names...**

Something crawled through the water. He could _see_ it – something white and maggot-y, swimming through. Wakasagihime looked paralyzed. When he tried to step back, he saw that his sphere of air did not move with him.

**No, no, mortal: you came here, now see what you find.**

Gen noticed that the shadow before him was moving... undulating. A part of it... _flopped_ off the side, producing a cloud of sand. What seemed to be tentacles... fingers, unfurled in places, and reached out. The mass lifted, but only a little. This was an incredible being of incredible size. It seemed to have a long, brawny pair of legs that it kept bent. If it had arms Gen couldn’t tell. And those things curling around it... definitely tentacles. He looked at the monster, and fed it fear.

 **Aaahhhhh...** came a rattling, old sigh. He winced upon hearing it, and held his head. He looked at Wakasagihime, and saw that she still could not move.

 **You smell _disgusting_.** the being commented. It continued, explaining why, **You have the stinking taint of the undead about you... About your neck, it seems. But worse than that, you stink of that industry which drove me and my kind out the water...**

A part of the great beast moved, giving an odd impression of curiosity.

**An out side errrrr...?**

“I’m...” Gen spoke, surprising himself, “I’m a native of Gensokyo.”

The monster began to throb.

**Ah ha...! Ha... Ha...! ... No.**

**Even if you weren’t a desperate liar, what do I care about what pile of wastes this grotesque mortal crawled from? Wherefore should I follow those “rules”? For the shrine maiden who cannot fly beneath the lake? For the gap hag who cannot _see_ below the lake? Ha...! Ha... Ha...! It is to laugh.**

It throbbed again, and seemed to point at Gen.

**While in that thing of yours, I cannot touch you with my power.**

It dropped an appendage.

**Aggravating.**

“What the hell are you?” Gen demanded in a whisper. He could hear his heart beating in his ears.

 **Please, introduce yourself first.** came its polite reply.

“I am the only apprentice of my Master Patchouli Knowledge, great magician and she who maintains the Library of the Scarlet Devil Mansion. My name is Itou Gen.”

 **That is very interesting,** it projected, and it seemed honest, **a little outsider is trying to make himself viable in a land where he’s seen as a meal.**

The thing laughed again. He really hated when it did that.

**There are many like me, lost to time and even to Gensokyo, where they could not sustain for the lack of trepidation the lake holds in the hearts of those men here. Even I, likely, will fade and wither away down below, for fearing the lake is naught compared to fearing the sea...**

It... _It, physically,_ produced a sound that Gen thought was a sigh of some kind. It shook the lake.

**I don’t remember what they called me, but I was one of many things to consume ships and sailors. I was the crag to pierce the hull, the undercurrent that grasped and drowned, the storm to capsize the vessel, and the maw to swallow it whole. I was all this, if you’ll pardon cliché: “terror of the deep”.**

“... So? What? Planning to eat me? Eat us?” Gen shut his eyes. “Don’t eat her, at least. It was my pushing that brought us here.”

 **You have not sailed;** replied the horror, **we are unforgiving and indiscriminate. When bringing calamity, we never did so with “reason”.**

“Y-You’ll eat her too?”

**Hmmmmm...**

_Fuck this!_ Gen thought, glaring at his feet. _Absolutely not! I’m not letting this happen! If Master Patchouli sent me down here, she knew I could find something like this and... Wait..._

“Are you... the Master of the Lake?”

**No.**

He peered into the writhing mass and finished his earlier thought: _She knew I could find something like this, and knew I could handle it._

**You are definitely human. You think this situation is escapable.**

The creature moved again.

**What do you think to do? I can only skim your mind.**

“How long have you been in Gensokyo?”

**A long time.**

“Then even some abomination like you would have acclimated differently.”

**Hmm...?**

Gen spoke an arcane language, and cast a spell with spirit.

From his hand he summoned an avalanche of “earth” – salt, to be specific. He made it flow outside of his bubble, and saw as the strange white strings in the water were dissolved. The monster in front of him quivered, but “said” nothing. As Gen had figured, although the beast was originally from saltwater, it had been long enough in freshwater that it would be difficult for it to suddenly change. Its weird, disgusting spawn, too, wouldn’t be able to maintain in a new environment. As for Wakasagihime, who was now free, he figured she was probably at least young enough that the change wouldn’t harm her much if at all. It was a risk, but at least it would definitely release her.

The Princess at once began to prepare a volley, knowing that simply fleeing would just expose their backs to the creature. Gen paged through his grimoires quickly, thinking to do the same. They connected in a plan to fight the beast at least enough to get away.

And finally, it addressed them.

**No, mortals, this is not a fight... This is... _feeeeeeeeddiiiiingg_...**

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BQ1cdbwUK0c> ]  
[Battle 2 - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]]

It crawled onto its ankles.

“Gen!” Wakasagihime called. “This is no cetus, this is _something worse_ , and it’s definitely not something we can kill! Don’t even think about it! You can use magic, right!? Figure out a way to get us out of here!” She shot him a look and shouted, “I’ll be trying, too!” Then, she cast at the beast an immense, unrelenting barrage.

Gen decided: to begin, he’d try a spell using water.

Speaking his incantation and raising his book aloft, he had several vortices spawn around the monster, tugging at its body. This was, according to Master Patchouli, one of her best “basic” spells.

**Oohhh...**

Parts of it were torn off, and black fluid clouded the water as those parts involuntarily thrashed about and shriveled. Meanwhile, Wakasagihime brought out a colorful and wide stream of bullets, lighting the thing’s shape.

In the light they were met with its many different eyes, and a crooked, man-like smile on its “face”. Both Gen and the Princess decided that looking on this “face” for any particular amount of time would be a bad idea.

“But now I know it has eyes...” Wakasagihime spoke under her breath, “I’ll put them out.”

She brought out a spread of danmaku, aiming roughly where she knew its eyes to be. Gen kept the whirlpools up, ripping at the creature’s form more and more.

 _It’s still not fighting...!_ Gen thought, worried.

**Hmmm...**

The creature flexed, and for a moment the darkness was dispelled. The moment was long enough for them to see that this gigantic abomination was much more gigantic than they had thought, its body winding behind itself further than they could see. It then regrew its lost limbs in seconds. They both stopped their attacks, simply stunned.

A tentacle was raised, and with it at once came a beam of highly pressurized water. It sliced deep through the sands and in-between the two mortals. They looked at the results, and then back at the beast.

**Before I dine on fish and man... let me drink that _palpable_ fright of yours.**

The beast pulsed with laughter again. Gen found himself panicking.

 _What the hell do I do? What the_ hell _do I do!?_

“Gen.” Wakasagihime was beside him. “Can you use the Sun in your magic? More than sunlight, can you _create_ one?”

Gen looked at her, not answering. She continued.

“Creatures like these appeared on stormy nights because they were afraid of the day. I bet you that’s why it’s hiding in the dark... So—So, light might be able to do something to it!” She looked his way and told him directly: “Try it, Gen!”

Wakasagihime left his side and began sending out what seemed to be as many bullets as she possibly could. Gen looked at her, shut his eyes, and then rubbed them. Putting on a fierce face, he began incanting for a magic that would bring down the Sun.

“If you know you’re going to die anyway, why bother doing any of this?” The Princess asked the monster.

**Oh, hush. Instinct. Does that satisfy you? I just want to do what I was born to do, even until I die.**

It began to raise many of its tentacles now.

**And it’s been, so, looonngg...**

The Princess understood what was happening and yelled: “Dodge, Gen!”

Rather than cutting water, this time the beast fired a proper bullet curtain, dense as could be without being a sheer wall. The mermaid avoided it effortlessly; Gen avoided it with all effort.

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaimed, English still on his mind apparently. He’d now have to restart the incantation, though... but it was hard to blame him when killing magic was entering his space viciously and violently, and he could only barely keep out of the way. He and she rounded the beast, seeing more of its long, horrifying form in the process, but finding it easier to avoid the attacks at the very least.

The creature began to attack somewhat in earnest now, casting bullets and beams and not simply playing. If either mortal was hit, they would perish. Gen kept his incantation up, while the Princess seemed to be looking for a way to lower the beast’s bullet density by separating its arms. This worked, but was temporary.

They kept this up for a full minute before Gen was ready. Shouting an ancient name for the Sun, one began to materialize in the waters before them, surrounded by a sheet of air.

The creature screeched with pain, and one could see that its body was burning and smoking. Wakasagihime wasted no time as soon as she saw this effect, turning to Gen and telling him to reduce his air. He did, and she rushed into him, hugging him close and swimming with all speed toward the surface.

Then

she pushed him away, sending him spiraling.

She lifted her hands, and summoned water to rush forward and push at him.

Before he was jettisoned from the lake, he saw a sickly gray appendage wrapped around her tail.

Gen was fired upward far enough that one could say he flew. He quickly expanded Patchouli’s spell of air, and when he eventually crash landed on the shore nearest to Scarlet Devil Mansion, his fall was cushioned. As soon as he was to ground he lifted himself up and looked into the Lake.

“Princess!!” he yelled. “Wakasagihime! Answer me!”

He slammed a fist into his thigh and shouted, “Fuck!”

He couldn’t accept this course. He refused it.

There was no way he’d live this life knowing that it had taken another’s in exchange.

Itou Gen stood, and made a choice.

[] This is seriously dangerous. Go get help.

[] There’s no time. Save the Princess.

<>

[X] Save the princess.  
-[X] Throw red Sparks to the sky before diving. >> _(Write-in)_

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Anchor: G5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/398273)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4xwjFkKdn9o> ]  
[tor – Iji (Chris Geehan & Dan Byrne McCullough)]

He put his hand to his throat and drew out his spirit from his gut, overwhelming the “sound” aspect of his Master’s diving spell with a few words. Then he yelled with all his breath, the spiral of air swelling his voice enough to shake the trees and ripple the water.

“THIS IS GEN!

WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING, PLEASE, HELP ME!

THERE’S A DREAD BEAST IN THE WATER WHO HAS TAKEN AN INNOCENT GIRL!”

_Please._

He took the largest grimoire from his belt and threw it open. Concentrating, composed, he dropped to a knee and began to incant with the skill and smoothness of his Master.

Fire.

Sun.

Wind.

Water.

His voice reflecting darkness and filling the sky with chilling tones, he conjured with ancient whispers nature through his hands, esoteric powers coming to bend and manifest around him as the tome glowed. Prepared, he gave one more shout:

“TO ME! FOLLOW THE LIGHTS!”

He returned the sphere to normalcy of volume and the volume of spells to his belt. Standing, he assumed the sorcerer’s role that his Master trained him for, and invoked a new array of magic.

“Parolu falsan lingvon en iluzia lando, kaj la elementoj estos ordigitaj.

Fajro, suno, vento, akvo: kliniĝu.

Aŭskultu!”

A gust turned harshly at his feet, lifting him, and from his tome danmaku the color of the mansion began to fire into the sky such that they would soon indicate his path. The lake bubbled before him; he forced his foot down through the powerful winds and leapt from the shore. The water curved like a serpent and caught him quick with the gale, driving him forward with the speed of an eagle. Gen lifted his right hand at his side, and sunlight began to gather in his palm. The light was not gentle, and fire too whipped out chaotically from the manifesting star, striking his cheek and crawling over his sleeve to ravage it. He was building a sun at once large and small – forcing it into a compact shape to bring with him and later expand. All the while, he kept steady a flow of Esperanto from his lips, frantically arranging those elements at his command. His balance threatened not to hold on the rapid stream while he soared over the lake, and the intensity of his sun was now nearly burning his arm and face, but he kept steady the flow, and lifted his left hand.

“Venu aparte!”

 _Here!_ He was above the monster. He could see it. He told the lake to bend before him.

It was as if a god had pried open the water, out twenty meters it split and five it parted, creating giant falls at his side. The evil lurking at the depths noticed him, and he brought himself toward it, bringing his right hand forward.

“Fuu—!” he exhaled and grunted as he approached the lakebed, making sure to drop his star from his hand and in front of the creature. Fast, he slammed and crunched into the wet earth, rolling and rolling until he was on his side. The magic holding the lake open began to close, water rushing down and toward him. He wasn’t sure the shield of air could withstand that oncoming strength and pressure, and so he pushed his body up with one arm and called to his copied Sun.

“Kreski!”

With this word he finally felt like his “spirit” was diminished. However, the sight he witnessed raised his spirit of emotion.

The summoned star at once twisted and spun into a vast size while the lake crashed into it and largely fizzled into vapors. Air accumulated around the fiery orb in a rippling curtain of bubbles so as to keep it from being too dowsed. Gen’s sun was effulgent, enough that he saw the beast below was no longer wearing a smile. It was burned, washed in blazes; it wailed, and lashed out its curling parts. In a mess of mad noise – screaming, flooding, boiling, hissing – and force unimaginable, weakened by all he had cast, Gen’s air was broken and he tumbled into the falling and rushing water of the lake. He tried to keep conscious, breath held desperate as he was tossed through savage undercurrents. In a moment more calm, he peered into the water at the horror he had severely harmed, and could see Wakasagihime in its grasp still alive, but not awake. He then looked at the surface. One more spell he’d laid – one more that he needed to survive this was there. What little he could manage: a bubble of breathable air that would follow from the sky into the sea (or lake, as here). He could see it descending: his simple, roughhewn magic that was nothing like his Master’s. He waited for it to come in desperation. The great beast lifted some clawed thing of its body and simply popped the sphere.

But... he had called for more. And more came, that the elder monster put out. In its reeling and hurt before the still swirling sun, this was all the beast could do. Gen watched with dread increasing and air supply waning, thinking _How many? How many did I call for?_

While between hope and despair, Gen lingered motionless and in growing pain staring at the surface...

... and with a rainbow’s appearance in the sky, _hope won out_.

~~

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Anchor: H5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/682533)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v51d4R55XcI> ]  
[It Has to Be This Way (Platinum Mix) [Instrumental] – Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance OST (Jamie Christopherson)]

One day, when they had been speaking frivolously, his Master had said:

“How I think of it is: in legends, ‘dragons’ were more than a kind of beast, they were an idea. Dragons were, in essence, the end of things. They were the power ideal, the ultimate foe, and that to which no other being of fantasy could compare. In Gensokyo as well, the being which reigns supreme is a dragon.

She is not a dragon, but in her breast and in her fist are all a dragon’s makings: all one’s beauty, and all one’s fury.”

Below Misty Lake, an old and wicked thing held in its grasp a young and lovely thing. The latter was a mermaid, unconscious and more than ready to eat. But, the old one had decided to wait. Feelings of vengeance and rage gave it no sustenance. To wag this bait out – bid attention of that silly human – that would give a better and frightful meal.

And it did, but the unsightly mortal brought with it a greater sun on its return. The water was now too hot, its body was being recklessly damaged, and the human’s corpse-ish and pollution stink now assaulted the senses to make matters worse. To spite the little thing, the beast began to destroy independent pockets of air the human had clearly summoned to help it breathe down below what with its shield ruined by its own absurd (and ultimately fruitless) actions.

While it bemoaned reckless and stupid humanity, the surrounding waters seemed to grow _even hotter_. It gazed above and saw a burst of prismatic auras and bubbles, shining so wide it was as if the entire surface had been soaked in colors. It saw: at the center of those fast approaching auras was a closed hand.

**What—**

It sent out a thought, and received a fist.

The old one determined: there was no queer touch to this being’s strike, what hit the beast now was frighteningly refined physical energy, and on contact it ruptured, broke, and _shattered_ parts of the thing’s body. It _hurt_.

Into the lake spiraled wisps of somatic power, drilling a vortex where the beast’s attacker had come in. A whirlpool formed at once yet was still for a moment, as if what had transpired was too much for the world to process. The water spun violently in and downward, and _she_ clenched and twisted that fist, breathing out sharply. When she had completely exhaled, and the full power of the maelstrom was at her back, she deepened her punch in a short, inhumanly quick motion that sent out a _crack!_ as a bubble-ring formed. She injected her life-force, bright and flashing, into the monster, causing the creature to compress into itself, and knocking it back several meters.

At the end, among the curtain of vibrant colors only red and green were left. She landed a ways behind from where she’d made contact, almost letting her hair and clothes complete a rotation, but stopping them with a stance. The whirlpool she had caused followed her to the bend of her energies and was so immense that, where she stood, only lakebed remained as the tunnel of water spiraled around her. Hong Meiling, the Gatekeeper of the Devil, breathed out again, and faced the monster without qualm.

The human who was present was elated. He called his rescuer’s name, but of course this only resulted in meaningless sound. Now, he spun like a leaf in Meiling’s cyclone, closing his teeth together and wincing as he felt arms and legs start to be wrenched. He threw his head forward and became recomposed. His eyes scanned the waters above and indeed, a bubble approached him. Now, mustering what little energy he had left, with all effort he reached for and grabbed this one of his last bids for air from the surface. Shoved it over his head, breathed deeply, nearly emptied the damn thing. He thought quickly, and determined there were perhaps five more of these he could rely on after they’d been largely massacred. Then, he made an effort and attempt to direct himself so that he had a path to the mermaid within this fast swirl.

“Sir Gen!” said the Chinese Girl, “I’ll need you to cast something on me if you want me to fight this beast...!”

Gen would answer her, but she would not hear it. He wondered how long the tornado of water created from her impossible power would last, but figured on the safe side he should rush.

Due to Meiling’s blows, the great beast had been shaken and its grip on the Princess was loose. She was held out ahead of him, but not in his way. Now that he had air to speak through, he used small spells to redirect himself with jets of water and was able to move enough that even in this strong turning, he would come across her. Putting his hands out wide, Itou Gen braced so as to be careful on impact, and grabbed Wakasagihime into his arms.

He did his best to hold her tightly, as they were now spiraling their way over the abomination’s twisted body. Gen turned his gaze from the old beast to the mermaid as their rolling stabilized, and assessed.

“She’s not hurt...” he whispered, looking over her tail and what skin was exposed. But, the thing next lifted its tentacles, and the pair was hurtled through their waving. Gen’s eyes widened at the chaotic sight, he looked at Wakasagihime’s sleeping face and shouted, “Wake up!”

... A thought occurred to him. He looked at Meiling in her place and saw that her whirlpool was shrinking. With his swimming ability and with the Princess he carried, he couldn’t see this having a good ending. He needed her awake. He also needed magic, but his essence so drained only allowed him minor elemental manipulation. This low spirit also meant he had low endurance, and the Princess too must have been exhausted during their earlier fight.

He had his Master’s potion.

Between the two of them, Wakasagihime would have more use out of it, but he couldn’t just unstop the vial and pour it out underwater over her face.

A thought occurred to him and he swallowed, face burning, eyes shut.

Meiling watched the horror before her still contend with the pains she and the sun had dealt it. She wanted to continue her assault, but without a guarantee of air... If she ended up having to swim, she could still fight but she’d be severely handicapped. She called to her Mistress’s ward.

“Sir Gen!! Hurr—eh!?”

Pulling back in surprise and losing her stance, Meiling wore a face of pure scarlet. She saw her Mistress’s ward turning in the vortex she had created. He had the mermaid’s face pressed to his, his face severe and resolute as he clearly locked with her lips.

“Eeeehhh!? Gen!?”

With his mouth full of the potion his Master had given him, Gen fed Wakasagihime spirit through a kiss. He cradled her head with his hand in her hair, bringing her into his bubble of oxygen (which was already running out) and keeping her body close with a palm on her back. He pushed down her tongue with his and let the thin liquid flow into her throat. He pressed to her, waiting, to see as color returned to her face. Some returned to his as well... and finally, she opened her eyes. Releasing her mouth from his, saliva and spirit connecting the two, he gasped several times, and the Princess blinked in confusion while speaking weakly.

“Ge... n...?”

Turning his eyes up at her, wearing a stark expression, Gen demanded: “Wake up, and bring me to the red-haired girl.”

Wakasagihime looked around herself with her eyebrows raised and her cheeks puffed out, covering her lips but not her reddening face. She tried to gauge the situation. Her thoughts were in a mess, but she chose to give focus to the human’s request.

Between the moving limbs of the creature that had captured her, she saw the woman to which Gen must have referred. She pulled the human into an embrace, flexed her tail, and began to maneuver through the flailing mass of horror, headed for the youkai overflowing with qi.

“There you are!” Meiling cried as she saw the two coming from the water. The mermaid slowed not one bit, rocketing through vortex and into the open air. She and he fell and dragged through the ground, and she unhanded him.

Still fallen, Gen took the book that had the inscription for diving magic from his belt and, while standing, began to speak the diving spell. He quickly stumbled to Meiling’s side and knelt, pushing the tome against her thigh. Essentially, he performed a haphazard field enchantment, and when he was done he invoked a spell to tether the book to the clothes at Meiling’s waist. Air rushed around her, and she lifted her hands with an expression of awe. The sensation made her recall, smiling excitedly as she deduced: “Ohh! This is Lady Patchouli’s magic!”

Gen had already turned away from Meiling and was on his knees examining Wakasagihime more thoroughly with what little time he had before the maelstrom broke.

... Soon done with his second examination, he released a long sigh with a hand over his face. Wakasagihime lifted her upper body and quietly patted Gen on the head a few times.

Gen stared at the mermaid blankly through his digits, but was appreciative. He then glanced behind himself and addressed the youkai from the gate. “Meiling, thank you. Are you capable of stopping that thing?”

Meiling had returned to a stance and was now building strength inside herself. She answered Gen honestly, “Oh, no way, but I’m sure I can get us away from it.” She beamed at the now slightly-aghast Gen, fulsome and prideful. “Leave it to me!”

“Hey, beast!” Meiling spoke now to the ancient creature. “Did you know this? When they used to make ocean maps in the west, their sailors had a way of giving warning about uncharted waters.”

**Yo u ka i...**

From the sound of its mental voice, the creature’s mind was in havoc.

“Because they didn’t know what was out there, and couldn’t picture anything worse, they’d say ‘here be dragons’!”

**Idiotic... Don’t d-d-dare...!**

Meiling now glowed brilliantly, and color shined off her similar to the northern lights. She left her stance, and jut a thumb to the Chinese character on her hat, smirking.

“Can you read that? ‘Lóng’— ‘dragon’! Now, I’m no dragon but...” Meiling lost her smile and dropped low, extending her right leg and arm. She looked at the beast, eyes thin. “I can show you why men feared dragons more than they feared you.”

She bent slightly, and sprang forward. Gen and Wakasagihime (who was now on his back with her arms over his shoulders) had their hair blown back when she dove into the water, and their eyes went wide as she whipped her leg into an upward arc. What they seemed to see was a thousand colored scales tearing ascendant like a gigantic beast erupting from the earth and carving into the horror, deep and ripping it twain. Meiling followed the axis of her kick and smoothly drew low once more, bringing a fist to her stomach. When she had gone three hundred and sixty degrees, she bent her back, exhaled breath like gusts from her nose, and punched into the creature’s form once more, now from below. When she did so, her energies looked as though they formed jaws around her large enough to take off the thing’s “head” in one bite. This aura knocked apart, and a shower of rainbow qi blossomed into a spreading, gorgeous, lotus shape, its “petals” battering her target without pause. The creature received Meiling’s blow so harshly that it was knocked upward almost enough to breach. The martial artist looked joyous, and focused again.

Meanwhile the spiral of her first attack had finally dispersed and the two she came to rescue swam and observed. Hanging around them were four large bubbles, Gen having used another to replenish his air. He saw that his sun was finally fading, and worried about how much Meiling could actually do.

“Hey,” Wakasagihime spoke at his ear, “if it likes to show its face that much, how about we go check what it’s hiding on its butt?”

“Eloquently put,” Gen replied, and then he nodded. “Let’s do it.”

And so the two of them made their way to its behind.

When they passed its front by, the great beast finally descended back to the lake floor, and brought down with it its arms with intent to crush its small enemy. Meiling stopped preparing for another attack and hopped out the way as a tree trunk-sized limb landed where she just had been. Others came, _slamming_ , _slamming_ , _slamming_ , and she saw that the creature was pushing her away.

“This is Gensokyo,” Meiling answered the beast’s actions with words, “I can fight at a range, too.”

 **YYyes, this is Gen so kyo,** the creature’s thoughts were becoming more together again with the sun’s now rapid disappearance, **lllet’s fight with beautyy.**

Once more, it called on a volley of large, frigid bullets and profane shots of sharpened water. Not constrained to a duel, Hong Meiling slammed her foot down and used all she was able. When she stomped, she sent out her qi through the sands, and it burst all around her like geysers, meeting the incoming barrage and walling it away from the tai chi gāo'shǒu.

Seeing her aura, Meiling did worry though: _This is no longer play, right? If Miss Reimu hears of this, will she exterminate me?_

She bit her lip.

 **You should be fearing _me_.** The beast reprimanded.

“Do we have to taunt? Well then, I already know what you’re like. You’re a squid! A cephalopod—and I’m the predator that’s got you scared. Come on! Look at all that ink you’re spraying!”

 **This _is_ Gensokyo,** it replied, **the way of things is to taunt. And this is not ink, this is my blood.**

“I know, I know... Let me see more, okay?”

**It is impolite. I should see yours as well.**

Meiling shook her head and answered singsong, “Not happening~.”

The beast seemed now to stand on its muscular legs.

 **In time,** it “said”, and its tentacles reached out far as it “said” once more, **in time.**

“Flying” now over the creature’s back, Gen and Wakasagihime tested its hide’s thickness and sensitivity by hurling water-formed danmaku at it. They were having no luck in finding a weakness. As they went, the Princess’s swimming was suddenly interrupted and she awkwardly pitched downward, almost dropping Gen. A wave of cold water had unexpectedly surged over the both of them, and they looked behind themselves to see that the beast looked to be lifting itself up now. Clouds of bubbles and seven-colored lights were all they could see before the creature. The battle seemed to have intensified. Gen turned away, and continued to fire.

“Nngh—! This seems really hopeless!” said the mermaid with anxiety fluttering her voice.

He replied, “I hear ‘hopeless’ and my brain registers ‘do-or-die’.”

“How human...!”

“Keep swimming. We’re not yet to shore and its body still goes.”

“Yeah!” She nodded, and moved ahead, as well adding her danmaku to his.

At its face, Meiling mostly found herself dodging. While she indeed could hold her own at range, she needed to get in close to really push the beast back. But, its spellwork was so _thick_. It laid out pressurized water that threatened to dismember her in hardly spaced rows, such that the gatekeeper felt as though a giant now pressed a grill down upon her. Between the rows it kept shooting a line of bullet magic such that she could not close in, and only found herself moving backward. Eventually, she grew sick of this. Meiling grit her teeth, churned qi into her hands and through her stomach, held it close, then rammed the energy forward. A gigantic white and rippling rainbow orb roared out from her hands and through the monster’s onslaught, burning it all away. In the clear this created, Meiling hopped upward and flew in a blur below water.

 **Not once more!** the creature voiced denial and aimed a barrage at Meiling.

She periodically dropped from sand to flight to stones to sand, flight, left, above, right, turning and hurling her body through a terrifying and wintry, merciless pattern, her clothing being torn as she failed to properly graze at this speed. She was soon near and ready to deliver a set of three strikes to the abomination’s ugly countenance, but it opened wide its mouth then to reveal a glowing and silvery liquid.

“What—!?”

There was a high pitched sound that grew to bleeding volume in half a second. The liquid in its mouth boiled, and looked ready to shoot out. Meiling knew innately that if this touched her, only her waist and legs would remain.

It launched its attack, but just as it did so it spun as if wounded, groaning horribly, the ray it was producing vomited out yet going far off the mark and obliterating all water in its errant, sidewinding path. The human and mermaid had found and exploited an old sore spot.

Meiling did not hesitate. With aura applied to every hit, shining fierce and beautiful, she delivered a triple assault: a spinning kick with her right leg followed by her left with a deliberate delay, then a strike with the base of her palm, pressing the beast back down to its knees and forcing some eyes out their sockets.

Without using mental projection, the creature raged in true, vocal agony. The sound of its true voice shook Meiling at her bones, but she was already readying another series of strikes.

She noticed: one funny eye of its face was looking at her. She thought to—

“ _FraaUUghh!!_ ” She screamed as pain filled one of her limbs. She’d hoped to move, but the eye that gazed upon her had suddenly popped itself, sending out a blindingly fast stream of black blood that clean-speared through the muscle of her right arm. She descended to the lake floor then, wanting to hold the afflicted area but stopping a near-gripping hand before it instead. She glared at the beast, which “spoke” to her.

**I have had ENOUGH of this scribble, scrawl, claptrap _madness!_ Devil’s gatekeeper: I will not stop after your corpse—I will have them all! I will rise to that gaudy base at the edge and devour every pitiable breathing thing I can reach and crush! While you cross the River Sanzu, I will remind you one should not make enemies of things they cannot understand!**

It rolled its entire body, seemingly ready to make good on its promise. The motion seemed to move all the water in the lake, and like a powerful tide the action fast dragged the Apprentice and Princess back to where they’d began, befuddled and gazing everywhere.

Meiling stood still.

“Are you kidding...?” Her voice was quaking. She looked into her enemy’s face with eyes casting wrath. “You’d talk that brazenly of invasion to the gate’s standing guard...?”

Gen and Wakasagihime realized something dark was brewing between them.

“You tell me you will harm my Mistress and think I’m going to _cower!?_ ” Meiling gripped both her fists, and brought herself to a new and fiendish stance. She lifted her bleeding arm and flexed it so the inky gunk of the creature’s lifeblood was wrung from her wound. Meiling’s qi wrapped around her and flowed into the lake with an almost celestial, golden magnificence. It looked like a hundred, warping veils drew out of and cloaked around her, and she roared at the horror with a beastlike ferocity.

“ _Listen_ you worm from shit...! I’m going to _crush_ your abyssal body beneath my fist until all your coward guts _spray out!_ ”

**You will only be scattered like a pet which lost its way beneath a tire! I will remove you without mercy, Devil’s slave!**

The two monsters were fearful, and the two innocents felt fear. They witnessed what had recently been forbidden in Gensokyo: a meeting of two evils with murderous wills. Meiling launched forward, and the beast threw forth its tentacles, and Wakasagihime whispered:

“... Hey... doesn’t something smell like... flowers out of season?”

-

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Anchor: I5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2380971)

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~~[♫]~~

“What? I can’t smell anything with this bubble on. What do you even mean by out o—”

“Alright, alright~. Isn’t that enough? Play like that is a no-no.”

There came a female voice clear as if they were in the sky rather than water. The abyssal creature stopped its onslaught and seemed paralyzed. Confused, Meiling stopped as well.

“I didn’t think Reimu should be bothered with this, but while _I was watching_ , I thought, ‘now, now, didn’t we _just_ change the rules?’ It’s too soon!

“Sea-child, humans from the other world are fair game, but do not harm the lost we shelter here. Treat your fellows how you’d be treated, isn’t that the saying?

“I thought to intervene when you touched the mermaid, but waiting I got to see something interesting. I apologize for the delay, rowdy dragon. You were a lovely, dark hero.”

A black, thin hole unfurled around the center of the old one. While Gen couldn’t see the bottom of this hole, he saw that the top was awfully strange. This seemingly second-dimensional figure was being twisted, almost cutely, by a brilliant red bow. The sight of this thing alone made him instinctively unsettled, his skin prickling. He grew anxious when he realized within the hole there were many vacant, staring, singular eyes. Whoever was speaking continued, now that the bizarre gap in the lake was set.

“Now, please remember where you are. I’ve connected your insides to a vacuum of mine and will soon open the path. This will be delightful.”

Gen, Wakasagihime, and Meiling could not actually see what was happening to the beast, and could only “see”, and hear, that it was wracked with horrible, torturous suffering. A gurgling, bubbling, deep-toned scream escaped its warped maw, and bounded through the water almost as if it hoped to share its pain with all those in it. It would twist and suddenly jerk backward into the strange hole, and its “tail end” was rapidly “slurped” into the very same. In a short amount of time, its extended body was all gone and its face was the last thing before the gap. The gap shut, became a line, and disappeared. The horror slowly drifted into the sand, now only a colossal plate of tentacles and eyes with an anguishing mouth. The three in the water stared in stunned silence, and the unseen woman spoke again, sounding joyful.

“You are immortal, and you have lasted in this world so long by craftily reminding rare humans of you when the need demanded. But, how long will it take to pull yourself back together from this, I wonder? And who will fear the crippled beast that no one knows is bleeding in the dark?”

All three could tell it was trying to speak with what was left of its mind, but it was only capable of announcing emotions: sadness, a bit of anger, and regret.

“I honestly hope you were satisfied with your time here.”

She sounded spiteful, and completely dishonest, and then they knew she was gone.

Light entered this part of the lake once more for the first in the longest while. Meiling’s bloodlust dissipated, Wakasagihime gripped at Gen’s sleeves, and Gen wondered aloud:

“What... the hell was that?”

Nobody had an answer. They were all still, until Wakasagihime began to drag Gen forward, saying “... Come on, we’ve only got one stone left.”

~~

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Anchor: J5

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2754676)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CBmOmNYI_Aw> ]  
[静寂の姫 - 謀叛和楽陣 (O-LIFE.JP)]

They spent a noon which became after, which became dusk, which became evening sitting on the no longer misty shores of Misty Lake, and drinking.

A Land of Fantasy...

When you first thought of such a thing, wouldn’t you also think “wonder” and “magic”?

Although terrors lived in fairy tales, rumors, and legends.

They talked of Gensokyo – the Gatekeeper, the Mermaid, and the Magician – even as the darkest of night fell, and what queer things lived there, themselves included.

Itou Gen had little experience drinking since he’d entered college, and actually none with the sakazuki they used right now. Beer hadn’t done much for him, but he found that he enjoyed the taste of brandy, at least. Wakasagihime had brought them several unopened bottles of the stuff from the wreckage of a ghost ship that had made its way beneath the lake, and Meiling had procured the cups (while, in her words, trying to avoid Sakuya). He commented that _sake_ (obviously) was meant for these cups, and Meiling remarked that this was fitting for Gensokyo.

The princess was on her stomach and elbows, half in the gentle pushing and pulling of the lake’s water and half upon the pebbles of the shore. The apprentice and guard were sat on a boulder and log respectively. All had cups, all had been drinking for many hours, and all their faces were flushed. It was a strange, not celebratory, not somber gathering. Under the cool light of the moon now that the summer sun was long away, they sat relaxed and listening to small breezes and bubbles of the lake between moments of conversation.

Gen noticed that the sack he’d brought along for his quest had brightness leaking from its mouth. However, he was a little out of it, and it had slipped his mind what the sack was for. He muttered a “What?”, reached out, and opened it to light.

“Oh right~,” Wakasagihime spoke, lifting her cup, “that last rock was really small, huh. S’was a real _pebble_ pebble.”

Gen pulled out stones from the bag and held them in both his hands. Together, and trying to separate, they glowed with the intensity of a proper lamp. Their little party, which had only the moon for illumination before, now felt a little more comfortable in the stones’ shine.

Gen swallowed and shut one of his eyes, thinking back. Once he properly remembered, he brought the stones between them all and whispered some invocations. Water drew out of the lake and surrounded the glowing things, then a circle of wind formed under it all and kept it floating, the rocks within the makeshift fishbowl drifting whimsically and casting dancing gleam all over this small place.

And Meiling made a sound of epiphany.

“Ahh! Lady Patchouli brought those back when she went in the lake last time. How pretty~.”

“Master did?” the boy asked, sipping his brandy.

“Yeah, she said they don’t seem to do anything, but it’s nice that they glow.”

“... I see.”

He, of course, began to wonder what purpose had been in his Master’s head when she sent him out today.

“But that reminds me, Sir Gen,” Meiling started, her voice noticeably playful, “how cool of you, getting a lover when you haven’t even been here even a month, mm?” She prodded his side with her elbow while smirking, and he winced with a cup to his lips.

He reached for a bottle and replenished the dish in his hands, answering “Lover? Wakasagihime? We’re not lovers.”

“I hope~ I’m his friend~,” the little princess wished.

“I’m certainly beginning to think that way,” he admitted. “Did we thank you for the brandy? Thank you for the brandy.”

“Thank me for the brandy!” Wakasagihime ordered, lifting her cup again.

In response, Meiling leaned back and shouted, “Thanks for the brandy!”

And at unequal volumes, they brought their cups together and cried, “Cheers!”

They swallowed their drinks in a grand motion, and the boy of the group addressed the mermaid.

“By the way, I do hope you didn’t mind what I did. Time and situation and all, I had little choice.”

Wakasagihime looked at him...

... and sang.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PJGRpiHRGIU> ]  
[All for me Grog - All for me Grog (Royal Bliss)]

“ _Weeeeeell...  
I’m sick to me head,  
And I haven't been to bed,  
Since first we came ashore with all me plunder.  
I see centipedes and snakes; I'm filled with pains and aches,  
But now we’ve got to push out over yo~nder! _

_And it's all for me grog,  
Me jolly, jolly grog  
All gone for beer and tobacco._” she lifted the dish in her hand, denoting here was the chorus.

“ _I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin,  
Now across the western ocean we must wa~nder._

 _Where is me hat?  
Me noggy noggin hat?_”

She conducted, they came in.

“ _All gone for beer and tobacco._ ”

“ _The brim is wore out, and the crown’s been kicked about,  
And me head’s been lookin’ out for better wea~ther._

Join!”

“ _And it’s all for me grog,  
Me jolly, jolly grog  
All gone for beer and tobacco.  
I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin,  
Now across the western ocean we must wa~nder._”

They followed the mermaid’s command, who swished her drink and nodded her head to the lively rhythm. Slowly, they forgot why they were here.

“ _Where are me boots?  
Me noggy noggin boots?_”

“ _All gone for beer and tobacco._ ”

“ _The soles are wore out, and the heels are kicked about  
And me toes are lookin’ out for better wea~ther._”

“ _And it’s all for me grog,  
Me jolly, jolly grog  
All gone for beer and tobacco.  
I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin  
Now across the western ocean we must wa~nder._”

“ _Where are me pants?_ ”

“PFF—!” Gen spat his drink.

“ _Me noggy noggin pants?  
All gone for beer and tobacco.  
Oh the zipper is wore out, and the legs are kicked about  
And me ass is lookin’ out for better wea~ther._”

Meiling chortled heartily, and next they cried out:

“ _And it’s all for me grog!  
Me jolly, jolly grog!  
All gone for beer and tobacco!  
I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin,  
Now across the western ocean we must wa~nder!”_

Alone now, the Princess went through the chorus in hums and vocalizations, entirely absorbed in song. Nearby, fairies were peeking at the troupe through trees, seemingly wondering in excitement if they might join as well.

Wakasagihime breathed, and entered the next verse.

“ _Where is me bed?  
Me noggy noggin bed?_”

“ _All gone for beer and tobacco!_ ”

“ _The sheets are wore out, ladies kicked them all about,  
And the springs are lookin’ out for better wea~ther!_”

“ _And it’s all for me grog!  
Me jolly, jolly grog!  
All gone for beer and tobacco!  
I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin,  
Now across the western ocean we must wa~nder!_”

Their stalwart guide sighed out and lowered her voice until it was soft. She sang the last verse with a touch solemnity.

“ _Where is me wife...?  
Me noggy naggin’ wife?  
All gone for beer and tobacco...  
Her good will’s wore out... and she kicked my arse about...  
... And I’m sure she’s gonna find some better wea~ther!_”

And the fairies and youkai and human all came ‘round in joyous noise, chorus ringing.

“ _And it’s all for me grog!!  
Me jolly, jolly grog!!  
All gone for beer and tobacco!  
I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin  
Now across the western ocean we must wa~nder!_”

“Once more!”

“ _And it’s all for me grog!!  
Me jolly, jolly grog!!  
All gone for beer and tobacco~!  
I spent all me tin on the lassies drinkin’ gin,  
Now across the western ocean we must waaa~nderr~!_”

Danmaku filled the sky, fairies swiped drinks, and a mermaid hummed more raucous melody.

It was a not too ordinary, but not too strange day in Gensokyo. With laughter filling the air, and laughter from his gut as well, Itou Gen thought perhaps he might actually make it here. Between the lurking horrors and resplendent happiness natives both provided, he thought: he could survive, and maybe even enjoy it. Of course, there was fun in festivity, but desperation – when desperation ran dry – retrospect showed was fun too. Combat had its blood-pumping pleasures. Triumph over the strange was appealing.

Singing again with a fairy resting on his head, that was how he genuinely felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like many folk songs there are maaany variations on "All for me Grog". Musically, I like Royal Bliss's take best of what I've heard in a recorded setting, but I mostly took the order of lyrics and altered the lyrics themselves from The Dubliners' take, heard here: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07IbUvh2ctc>  
> And some bits from Piratensongs heard here: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rd1ASJh_7l0>
> 
> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	6. Mortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next order of business after the harrowing business of the Lake is Muenzuka, out of season. On the Road of Reconsideration, beside the sleeping spider lilies, the young apprentice comes across a flower girl...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.6**  
>  [A6].[B6].[C6].[D6].[E6].[F6].[G6].[H6]  
> [I6].[J6].[K6].[L6]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to <https://www.touhou-project.com/> Be wary of **spoilers.**

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Anchor: A6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/434423)

* * *

Early morning at Scarlet Devil Mansion, the Unmoving Great Library remained sedentary to her title. In a rare act, she had coffee while going over notes for an experiment’s progress. The experiment was the human that had been fated to her: the outsider Itou Gen. The Library’s Apprentice had _been_ her apprentice for two months, and he now entered his third. Technically speaking due to arriving midway through July he had entered his third month (September) about two weeks ago, but this was just too specific detail. Soon enough, they’d all forget the exacts.

Her evaluation of his progress was thus: precisely satisfactory, and thus exceeding expectations. Apparently her student had already studied quite a lot of what she had to teach back in the Outside World, it was just that _since_ it was the Outside World any time he tried to use magic, even alone, he merely managed to make himself look silly. This had him take to her teachings much more well than she’d thought some wayward human would. He often forgot things and was still clumsy, but for two months of dedicated education, both theoretical and practical, he had truly become a student of magic now. Yes. Satisfactory.

To speak of practicality he had had some extreme ordeals during his first few weeks in Gensokyo, and though her friend (and the Mansion’s master) Remilia Scarlet had made it so he was a fated apprentice magician, he had been reminded that the vampire had done nothing to change any fate regarding whether he lived or died after becoming such. One particularly harrowing experience of his had been his exploration of Misty Lake. He’d encountered a ship-killer while on a quest for stones. She’d told him that she’d expected him to _avoid_ the ship-killer when he realized something dark was in the lake, as there were other sources for the pebbles it guarded. But, apparently, this did not occur to him. What an idiot.

But this was his most harrowing moment so far aside from his first life-or-death test and the time he’d introduced himself to the little sister. He had wagered meeting the second vampire on his own would make him seem more trustworthy. On the contrary, it seemed to only make him almost lose an arm. In the end he managed to please her, but he’d admitted to his Master after the fact: “I think I’d like to avoid Mistress Flandre until I’m strong enough to not have to fear her.”

Gen would not be able to entirely separate “fear” from “youkai” until he himself transmogrified into a full Magician. It was beyond early to be thinking of such things, of course, so he would remain cowardly for some time to come. To his credit, though, the boy also knew courageousness, and she did find it admirable and human how he often decided when faced with a wall to not succumb to what brought him there, but instead tear down the wall or turn and face the monster at his back. He’d grow in power, youkai or not, and have less cause for fear.

He was nice.

Now, she’d woken up early today to figure out what to have that nice kid do next with his two months of experience. He was beginning to get used to gathering ingredients from the forest, and he’d found a friend in the lake that he felt confident to call on (and happy to chat with often, it seemed). She’d send him out again today, but why and to where? This was her current question.

By now after consideration she had two categories she could decide on: sending him on an errand, or sending him someplace new in Gensokyo. First decision, to be followed by another...

[] Send him on an errand to somewhere he’s already gone.

[] Send him to explore Gensokyo.

<>

[X] Send him to explore Gensokyo.

* * *

  
[ _Not safe for work, but not explicit: https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/987241]_

* * *

Right. He’d been getting comfortable enough around the Lake and Forest; how about making him uncomfortable again?

So...

[] Have him visit the field where the nameless dead are laid to rest.

[] Have him visit the river where Gensokyo's dead pass on.

<>

[X] Have him visit the field where the nameless dead are laid to rest.

She wanted him to get familiar with both these places, but she did like a sink or swim approach. Muenzuka was a deadly place, even without the youkai that stalked it, though she’d be sending him to the place without the higanbana in bloom. There was her mercy. Itou Gen, if he did not become a blood-Magician, would eventually die, and when he died he’d presumably be interred at the field of intersecting borders on the outskirts of Gensokyo. Perhaps seeing the place and knowing that, he’d have some motivation.

She didn’t want him to die. Who liked failed experiments?

And so he was given his assignment. Two weeks’ preparation, then go to youkai hunting grounds and come back alive with a treasure.

Gen, after reading up on the Mound of the Nameless, thought: _Ah, so she’s finally thinking to kill me._

~~

* * *

Anchor: B6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1917071)

* * *

Because Muenzuka was an area where the Great Barrier was weak and thus worlds intersected, outsiders such as Gen often slipped into Gensokyo through there. Why Gen hadn’t (he had been spirited away quite randomly, actually) was supposedly since a particular type of human often entered at Muenzuka and the Road of Reconsideration which led there. To put it in a word, they were “malignant”. Perhaps a little harsh to refer to the suicidal that wound up at the place as such, but were you to look at the etymology... what was more rebellious toward God than to deny the life God gave you? Other than the terminally depressed, there were many criminals and vengeful folk as well. All of these were types youkai loved to feast on. In autumn, when spider lilies bloomed and their airborne poison left those humans weak, youkai found it to be like harvest season (well, coincidentally, it _was_ ). In autumn, that place was like Hell. As of right now, it was only incredibly dangerous.

As he was yet incapable of flight (Patchouli said she didn’t trust him and his wanderlust, so he’d be grounded for longer still), Itou Gen’s journey to Muenzuka ended up taking a _very_ , _extremely_ , **_long time_**. Not because of the distance, no, but because of the damnable fairies. The road to Muenzuka was past the Forest of Magic, and there was no actual defense one could have against the pranks of the fair folk when in the Forest of Magic. He had gotten... _much_ too used to that fact since he’d begun taking regular visits to the place. He wondered if Alice might have some advice on getting through the forest without any trouble, but asking her without his Master’s blessing seemed potentially dangerous (Master Patchouli still seemed pretty riled by that early joke). He’d heard that book-thieving brat was living on her own in the forest as well... but if there was one person Master Patchouli hated more than Alice, it was Marisa. So, he had to contend with walking in circles until those whimsical nature-punks had their fill of amusement. This meant he left the mansion at a little after eight, and found the exit of the forest at one in the afternoon.

When he finally saw the light of the open sky again, he didn’t actually know this. He only knew that he was famished and his legs were tired. He actually had a pretty odd relationship with nowadays, thinking about it. At the mansion, there was almost always a clock to use to get the hour and minute of the day, and both Master Patchouli and Miss Sakuya had calendars for the date. That being said whenever he left, he did so without any sort of time-keeping device or object. He had a pretty good sense of time on his own so this had never been a problem, but he wondered if he might ask Mistress Remilia if he could do her a favor and be rewarded a watch.

“Phew...” Gen fell lightly into a tree and slid down until he hit dirt. He next retrieved a paper package from his coat: a wrapped sandwich made by Miss Sakuya for his lunch. He unsealed the paper and bit hungrily into it. Ham, lettuce, and tomato were its main contents, and like (almost) everything that maid did, it was prepared excellently (however, she still pulled some strange acts in the kitchen from time to time). He was happy he’d gotten used to eating meat in a place where those around him ate men. For a little while, he’d thought he might become a vegetarian.

With these considerations, he brought his hand to the necklace his Mistress had gifted him and lifted its “pendant” to the sun. He never removed this necklace, even during baths. Remilia had noticed this and teased him over it constantly, but there was a lot of honest happiness behind her mocking. More and more he was beginning to feel like this vial and blood truly bound him to Gensokyo; he just wasn’t sure how he felt about that yet.

Soon done with his meal (and having drank water from a canteen he’d been provided), Gen tucked away the necklace under his collar as always and stood up. Scarlet Devil Mansion, although it still felt vaguely hostile, was too good to him. They gave him all means to survive should he ever leave its red walls, and it was to the degree he felt almost pampered by them. In all honesty, that might’ve been the case—at least to some extent. It left him absolutely uncomfortable at any rate. It had him feeling rather useless of late, as if any of his accomplishments weren’t truly his. He hoped today, when he would surely face mortal danger, he could prove to himself the opposite: that he could grab success by his own hands, and that was worth something.

And so he stepped onto the Road of Reconsideration...

... but there was nothing very remarkable about it.

It was late summer. The path to Muenzuka was a long and twisting one of short grass, flanked by a tall variety and some shriveled, white flowers. There were unsystematic, far apart and large trees with long and overhanging branches, and that was essentially all there was to see. Now it definitely felt _strange_ being there... but not very. Almost like he was always about to fall down, but it only felt that way to a small degree. If he was being honest, what he found the most notable about this place was its _openness_. That was bad. He saw no youkai, but he didn’t have any places to hide or escape to should he be attacked. That worried him, but even worried he marched on.

He remembered: it was very loud in the Forest of Magic. Fairies’ laughter, rodents, larger creatures, wind, birds...

It was quiet here.

He walked toward Muenzuka and only heard his own footsteps as he crushed grass beneath his feet. He wondered if, perhaps, youkai weren’t really out and about right now because night had yet to fall...

“Ah, another human. Hello.”

Gen stopped on his path. He hadn’t noticed for looking over the sleeping flowers that someone was up ahead of him. A woman in red plaid clothes and carrying a parasol. He... couldn’t honestly get a read on her with her back turned, and she seemed to not have much interest in looking at him.

Still, he should be polite.

“Good afternoon,” he answered. “I understand humans don’t come here much at all, so why are you here, if you don’t mind me asking?”

The woman was silent for a little while before turning slightly and answering, “It’s odd that there aren’t any youkai around, right? I came to see if there were any unusual flowers.” The woman showed her left hand and gestured off the path, “And there, there are some. Higanbana awake and out of season in Gensokyo. It’s very peculiar, though some of them start blooming this early in the Outside World, depending where you are.”

He looked to where she was indicating, and indeed a small patch of those white flowers had turned red, curled full and upward with their long and thin petals—crimson cages on stems. “Hey, you’re right...” he commented, drifting his gaze to her feet. His eyebrows raised and he added, “Oh, and there’s some anemones just below you. Do those bloom here?”

“Sometimes...” saying this, she bent down and seemed to be looking at the several-colored flowers surrounding her, but still hadn’t turned to face him, “... but not in summer. These are children who wake up from autumn and into spring. That’s also strange, isn’t it?”

“... Is something happening?” he felt he had to ask.

“No,” came her reply, “although I get the feeling something else will happen within the next year. Just a feeling... from someone interested in trouble and flowers.”

 _Weird florist_ , he thought. Or, he hoped she was just a florist. He wasn’t sure... A problem with youkai in Gensokyo was that while some like that abomination in the lake looked obviously monstrous, many more didn’t. If this was a youkai, he wouldn’t be able to tell, especially without a look at her face (he found it was sometimes obvious once he saw how people expressed themselves).

 _She’s... probably just a human taking the opportunity to visit a place she ordinarily can’t while the air’s still clean._ Gen felt this was a sound theory, adding the thought: _Probably._

If she was a native as he suspected, she wouldn’t have to worry about being killed. Thinking of that, he wondered when he’d start finding corpses... this road was supposed to be littered with them. Muenzuka, too, was just a sad and dead place. All this, with the addition of monsters and queer space; this wasn’t a place most humans would go to willingly.

So... was she human? Gen decided...

[] to play it safe, say farewell, and move along.

[] to keep chatting with the flower girl.

<>

[X] to keep chatting with the flower girl.

* * *

Anchor: C6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1612379)

* * *

“... You know,” Gen began, “if I remember correctly, it’s technically autumn already.”

“Oh—” she began, airily, now starting to turn in earnest “—you know a thing or two.”

The woman showed him her face. She looked... homely. Her hair was messy and green, kept short and kept jovial in style. This might have given him pause had his Master not told him some humans had peculiar hair colors here in Gensokyo. However, despite her mostly simple face, pleasant and comforting to see, her eyes were surprisingly striking. They were red, sharp, and seemed in some way indicating ages of wisdom. This was not for any crow’s feet or dark circles: her glance itself held untold knowing. Rather than putting him off, he found staying in her vision to feel attractive. He wanted to ask what those eyes knew.

That all said, the smile she now showed him, while obviously intended to be polite, sowed in his heart a deep seed of worry, almost instantaneously. He couldn’t explain the concern he felt, the “RUN” that flashed his mind, but if he had to try it wasn’t like the girl was pretending to be well-mannered, it was like she had practiced for the sole intent of conveying what “being well-mannered” was. That he could tell was what had him unsettled.

But... this was the only trait of hers that felt unnerving—or perhaps even dangerous—and humans certainly had such traits from time to time.

She continued speaking.

“Time is an entirely human invention,” she raised her hand as she said this, catching a healthy green leaf he hadn’t noticed coming toward her, “I’m not trying to sound intelligent saying that, I’m mentioning it because it’s important to the conversation. You say that it’s autumn,” continuing, she fiddled with the leaf, and then showed it to him, “but is this leaf yet red? ‘Autumn’ is declared when that specific equinox occurs, and that is the arbitrary decision people have come to, but plants and flowers will wait for the weather that they want.

“In certain times and places, the higanbana will have blossomed by now, but in Gensokyo true autumn tends to come within October. We’re... still yet in September, no? The sun still wants this place all bathed in its light unrelenting. The cool winds and pretty colors of autumn... it’s ‘autumn’, and they all have yet to visit.

“But these kids are early,” she finished, toeing the anemones in the grass and letting the leaf fall into the red flowers beside her. She faced him fully now to accomplish this. After lingering fondly on the spider lilies yet to bloom around them, she turned her gaze to him and put both her hands to her parasol’s handle. She gave a slow, deliberate, and somewhat deep nod while closing her eyes, and introduced herself: “My name is Kazami Yuuka. I’m sorry for not introducing myself sooner.”

“I’m Itou Gen. Never mind it.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” she opened her eyes and smiled again while offering this line. Gen’s skin crawled.

“Likewise.”

“What is it you do, Gen? What brings you to the Road and Muenzuka? Did you remember somebody nobody else did, and come to pay respects?”

“I’m... just a researcher,” he decided to be careful, “I came because I’m apprentice to a Master that wants me to find something worthwhile from the Mound of the Nameless. A treasure, she said.”

“You should have Reimu with you... Do you not fear youkai?”

“Same to you,” he countered, “I know you wanted to check the flowers, but a florist should probably be checking somewhere else if they’re going without any assistance. It may be forbidden for youkai to eat humans now, but you could still be injured rather horribly.”

“Thank you for your concern,” Yuuka replied honestly, “you’re a good boy.”

“I’m being serious...” he muttered, looking away.

“But good boys shouldn’t lie, by omission or otherwise. You research magic, don’t you? Your tomes aren’t hidden at all, Sir Magician.”

_Oh. Right._

“Uh...” was all he could manage in response.

“So, you’re a youkai yourself?” she asked, tilting her head.

“No! No! Human! Totally human!” he denied her while waving his hands before himself. Putting one of them behind his head and another on his hip he followed with, “It’s a bit early to really call myself a magician, though.”

“You have dark plans. Scary.”

“Dark?”

“To abandon your mortality is absolutely inhuman – it’s the most inhuman thing one can do. Is that what you’re planning?”

“I, uh, honestly don’t know yet.”

“That is something you should think about. Take it from... a florist. I know of mortality,” her eyes once more possessed a knowing look as she cast them again on the sleeping white flowers.

“I’ll think about it...” he confirmed.

“You should! There are two places in this land where you must really think on the only life you have, and you stand in one now!”

Yuuka’s concern was obvious in her face. This wasn’t practiced like her smile: the woman was looking at Gen with her eyebrows turned up, her lips pouted, and those piercing eyes now dulled and calm. It was almost motherly. Mothers, huh...

“I’ll think about it.” He meant it.

Yuuka’s smile returned, but this time lax and halcyon, like she hadn’t thought to smile at all. She told him, “That’s good.”

“Will you go all the way to the mound, now, Gen?” she next asked, “May I join you?”

“Yes, but keep close to me. I’m not very experienced with defending others with magic.”

“I don’t think we’ll have to worry,” she told him.

Gen began to move forward while he spoke.

“Really? What makes you say that?”

“While youkai should be feared, these corpse fields are so easy only weaklings would come to pick up the fallen and rolling fruits.”

“Uh... okay.”

Looking back at her, he saw her smile was still fully genuine, but that only perturbed him all the more. They continued to walk toward Muenzuka, chatting absently about magic and flowers.

~~

* * *

Anchor: D6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1495614)

* * *

“Did you know that there was magic to create flowers?”

“No, I didn’t. Do you know it?”

“I don’t know a spell for that, if that’s what you’re asking. Having flowers whenever, wherever, and helping them grow... Lovely.” When Yuuka spoke of flowers, he would always turn and find a pure and happy expression on her face. It made her nice to be around.

“Then, I’ll learn a magic for that and come by wherever your shop is in the human village.”

“Wow! You really are sweet.” She spoke with love and gently pressed into him as they ascended the Mound of the Nameless, and he could feel _incredible_ definition along her forearm. He blushed. In truth, though he’d been trying to forget about such things while he stayed in Gensokyo, a woman with great physical strength was bad for his heart. He was thankful he could only think of his mermaid friend as a friend, otherwise he might have started pathetically flirting with her by now.

He would _not_ flirt with Kazami Yuuka, either. He forced his gaze forward and asked her, “So, do you do a lot of gardening?”

“Do florists do a lot of gardening?”

“Right. Stupid question.”

“I admire and take care of many flowers all year ‘round;” she said. “That’s all I do.”

“Huh...”

“Look, we reach the top.”

And they did, and again it was an unremarkable sight. This place bore some more notability than the road that led to it, though.

Muenzuka itself was surrounded in more sleeping flowers, but also had what looked to be a few large, purple cherry trees. From what he’d read, this place was a stunning and otherworldly scene when certain conditions were met – cherry blossoms in bloom, or higanbana spreading – but this was not now. It was only a quiet, somewhat barren-feeling field and hill.

“This place will look strange and phantasmal in just two weeks,” Yuuka commented, “and in months after, it should look more amazing than any viewing of cherry blossoms you’ve been to. However, the higanbana will want to kill you, and the cherry blossoms are born of youkai trees.”

She stepped forward, monitoring the flora around. Gen, meanwhile, realized that the queer sensations he’d felt along the road were here much more noticeable. Oddly enough, he felt “security” within his sternum, but everywhere else on his body felt as though he might lose balance and be swept into deep waters. It made his heart pound.

“Are you scared?”

Yuuka was asking him a question. He looked up, realizing he was grabbing his chest over his clothes.

“I hate being here, too,” she consoled him with sympathy, “this sensation like you’re going to be rudely pushed somewhere new is quite frustrating.”

“It’s not like that for me... it’s more subtle, which might be worse.”

“Oh?” She looked very curious about this, and then asked, “Do you feel... ‘safe’ on any particular part of your body?”

“Weird question...”

“Well, answer it.”

“... My sternum. Definitely weirdly specific. What is that _smell_?”

“You almost looked disappointed when we crested the hill,” the florist walked toward him now, “but how about now? Is Muenzuka satisfyingly grotesque and off-putting for you? That smell is the old scent of cremation. This is an umarked graveyard. Daily, they burn corpses here. Outsiders, mostly... Your sternum, huh...?”

“R-Right, graveyard...” he stammered. He was beginning to feel nauseous. He remembered, and then thought it was odd: why hadn’t they encountered any youkai at all? He hadn’t even seen one.

So he asked, “Really, where are the youkai here?”

“I wonder where...” she asked faintly, feeling over where Gen’s shirt and vest met. Pausing, she raised her eyebrows, then squinted as she dragged her fingertips to the side of his neck. Feeling so sickly now, he couldn’t even muster embarrassment as she slipped her hand into his shirt, felt around for a second, and revealed his necklace. “What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s a...” he wondered about being honest, settling on: “It’s vampire’s blood.”

“How did you get it?”

“Sorry, I don’t really—”

Yuuka looked up at him and said, “Hey,” in a commanding tone. “How did you get it?”

He swallowed before answering, “A gift... from the vampire the blood came from.”

“I see...” she put the hook of her parasol on her wrist and reached around his neck now, leaning close. His nose was brought very near to her collar, and he smelled all kinds of flowers, earth, and oddly enough sunlight—or at least, that was what it evoked. When she pulled back, she had his necklace, and was putting it on.

“H-Hey...!”

“It’s sentimental to you?” she asked, stopping. But then she continued, saying, “It’s tying your heart to that vampire’s and making you care about Gensokyo. It’s a physical embodiment of your connection to your home, and so it is your refusal to leave it. That’s why you’re feeling sick when others try to take you. I’ve seen this before.”

As she mentioned it, instead of light waves of tugging, invisible forces, Gen now almost felt buffeted by winds. Like, his soul, or spirit – something inside _him_ was being suddenly pulled without warning, quite randomly. His vision swam a moment, and he felt close to vomiting.

“Chew on this, come on.” Yuuka was presenting him with a leaf. “It’s mint.”

She put it to his lips and he bit down on it, pulling it into his mouth and next grinding the leaf between his teeth. Bitter, but it certainly helped. It made him realize he was on his hands and knees now.

“Now you won’t feel nauseous, but you’ll have to face the forces of perhaps three worlds vying for your body. Stand up.”

Weakly, he managed.

“Even if you have a physical representation of your sentimentality, if your emotions are strong you won’t feel this push and pull... Gen, do you not feel at home in Gensokyo?”

“...”

“It’s just a question,” she said, and she smiled politely.

“... It may be feeling like a second home.”

Yuuka’s smile widened.

“Bin-go~.”

He frowned at her, twisting his lips as he chewed the leaf. Actually... where did she get that leaf? She didn’t have a pouch on her, did she?

“Don’t you still have a job to do?” Yuuka reminded. “Pull yourself together and get moving.”

“Man...” he rattled, his voice hoarse and feeble, “haven’t you gotten serious.”

“I saw that you weren’t being serious enough,” she looked at him with the severity of a disciplining authority before a lout. He looked away under her gaze and answered.

“Don’t worry, I came here to prove some things to myself. That was... It was just sudden. I didn’t know Muenzuka felt this way.”

“Well I don’t see a treasure in your hand, so you better get used to it.”

“Watch it,” he snapped lightly, “I’ve got something to do: I’m going to do it.”

She smirked.

“Good.”

Gen walked on ahead and Yuuka followed him. He hadn’t realized how dangerous being at an interstice between worlds would be. He thought as an outsider, he might be more acclimated to reality slipping... but then again he still mostly remembered his entrance into Gensokyo as a dream, and it had of course only happened once. Trying to focus on staying in Gensokyo, he began looking for so-called treasure in this shifting field of unmarked graves.

~~

* * *

Anchor: E6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2990786)

* * *

He had no luck.

“Isn’t this a _garbage dump_?” he complained.

“Look at this little bauble, and this one,” said Yuuka. She still had her parasol at her wrist and held now two awful things. One was a cheap, handheld water ring toss game (just looking at it filled him with rage), the other was a pogo stick. “They’re so interesting!”

“Put those down!” he demanded. He was now looking through a pile of batteries in vague hope of finding something worth powering with them. The common theme of the Mound of Junk (芥縁塚, Akutaenzuka) was that there were things from back home that had slipped into Gensokyo through here. It was almost all just... _incredibly_ useless. Finally reaching the core of the battery pile, he had to slap his hands to his face, for he had come across _another_ CRT monitor.

“Aaaagh, seriously, why is it all trash!?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yuuka replied, now wearing a cap with straws twisting off of it and two odd spaces to hold things at its sides. The cap had a logo of some soccer team on it from... he wasn’t sure, probably the UK. What the hell was that thing?

“What the hell is that thing?” he asked.

“I don’t know—” she spoke absently, and now had her hands above her head to play with the straws, “—maybe I’ll ask at Kourindou.”

“It’s filthy, take it off your head.”

He groaned, then sighed, and Yuuka said, “Yeah,” while taking off the hat, “not near as fun as flowers.”

That was of course not what he meant. He and she had been looking for perhaps an hour and had only found broken things, old things, crappy things, and not a single thing that he could call treasure. He was worried that he’d be going back to the mansion empty-handed—and having never _seriously_ disappointed Master Patchouli before, he didn’t want to imagine what she’d do. He hadn’t even exterminated any fairies today, let alone youkai. The trip was turning out to be entirely pointless—the only thing all he’d “received” was horrible feelings from being in a bizarre and twisted non-place.

“This area’s so wide, too...” he groaned. “God, I’m getting sick of being here.”

“Look!” This was Yuuka.

He looked. She had a black-headed pig statuette with an earthy, tannish body. A Chia Pet. He slapped his hands to his face again.

“I said look! There were instructions—it’s entirely untouched! You soak the pig in water... Give me your water!”

He did not protest as she tore his canteen from his belt.

“Douse it and then... Hm, the seeds... This preparation is a bit irritating... but, look, look!”

He reluctantly gazed upon Yuuka’s messy, seed-covered hands and statuette-pig.

And, to his bewilderment, it suddenly sprouted greens in four quick stages of growth.

“Ch-Ch-Ch-Chia~!” Yuuka spoke while hiding behind the terracotta animal, and peaked out from there when she was done, now almost giggling. Noting his expression, she added, “... It said that on the seed package.”

He stood up. “Doesn’t... Doesn’t that take two weeks!?”

“Hm, so it says... Maybe it works quickly because we’re in Gensokyo?”

_Like, the commercial got so well-known, “fast-growth” became part of public conscious, and here the myth is reality? I’ve only seen the commercial in English once... the things aren’t that popular in Japan._

“... Maybe,” he finally said. Still a little shocked, he shook his head, shut his eyes, and told her “Let’s look somewhere else,” while turning around. He then grunted as he walked into something. That something promptly pushed him away.

“Hey, let me see that.” Someone new.

“Okay.” Yuuka, again.

The new voice was a bit gruff but obviously young. He turned to see a small girl with gray, short-cropped hair. She wore an interesting-looking black dress, and had mouse ears and a tail. Mouse ears and a tail...

“... Youkai!”

Shouting this, Gen jumped back. Yuuka did not react, and had given the statue to the mouse. The mouse looked back at him briefly before returning her attention to the Chia Pet. She turned it over, sniffed it, flipped it in her hands, and then began to fiddle with two very long, oddly-shaped black rods hanging in the crook of her right arm. She took them up, and pointed them—like two featureless, handheld rifles at the pig.

“Strange... why didn’t they react to this?” asked the mouse.

“Are those dowsing rods?” asked Yuuka, who was uncomfortably comfortable around wild youkai.

“Yep. Was just searching again today, but the pig thing didn’t make them flinch.”

“Mysterious!”

“They’re for treasure hunting?” Gen interjected. “Then they didn’t react because it’s just some too-old fad that clings to humanity like an ancient kitsch tick. It’s garbage.”

“What do you mean, human?” the mouse fired in a dismissive tone. “You saw as well as I did how it suddenly grew, right? It’s like fairy magic, but this is clearly from the Outside World.”

“Very mysterious!” Yuuka repeated.

“I should take it...” the youkai mumbled. “Hey,” she said, addressing Yuuka, “would you give me this?”

“For free?”

“Hmm... yeah. For free.”

Cheeky.

“Okay,” Yuuka said, to Gen’s surprise, “it’s yours.”

“Thank you!” said the mouse, and Gen frowned again, having witnessed something very stupid.

Cautiously lowering his aggression, he decided to call out to the mouse, “Hey, uh...” he had thought to ask about her presence here, but then thought a different but similar question would be better: “Do you know where all the other youkai are? I was told the Road of Reconsideration and Muenzuka were filled with them.”

“No, I don’t. Only been me since this morning. Why, you got a death wish? You should’ve come here in autumn, that’s what the road is for.”

Yuuka nodded, saying “She’s right.” He supposed she was. The Road of Reconsideration was so called because the spider lilies’ miasma whilst in bloom made one rethink suicidal thoughts should they have any. Being on the verge of death put the concept of death into a sobering perspective.

“No, I don’t have a death wish...” he said. “I’m here for treasure hunting myself.”

“You don’t say.” The mouse didn’t care. She was still not looking at him and seemed to be preparing to get a move on.

He grimaced. He was getting annoyed.

[] Calm down, question her amicably.

[] Screw it, be firm and get her attention.

<>

[X] Screw it, be firm and get her attention.

* * *

Anchor: F6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1874830)

* * *

Gen’s patience was at its end. He pinched his nose bridge, and called to the youkai with a stern voice.

“Hey, before you get a move on I’d thank you to apologize.”

“... What?” The mouse answered with clear annoyance, facing him and showing her red and angered eyes while she gave Yuuka the statue to hold. “Stupid human, you really do have a death wish.”

“You seem pretty civilized, Miss Mouse. Maybe you know that when you shove people, accidentally or otherwise, it’s considered terribly rude.”

“You should be happy I didn’t shove you to the ground and rip out your throat. Where do you get off—”

“How about you apologize,” he cut her off, “or I finally think to use the arts I’ve been honing which burn your ill-bred kind?”

The mouse glared at him as he touched a palm over one of the tomes on his belt.

“My name is Itou Gen, apprentice to the great magician and master of Scarlet Devil Mansion’s Library, Patchouli Knowledge. Learned in all elements, studied in vivid patterns, and well enough versed in rat poisons to deal with the pest before him now.”

“... You talk big, for a human.”

“Only with reason, youkai,” he told, and he removed the tome and lifted it as he said, “I have every reason.”

_Finally... Finally I can let loose—_

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dj2TnBR2yM0> ]  
[Melancholic Road - Melancholic Road (TLi-synth)]

“Okay, stop,” saying this, the mouse held up her hands. She was closing her eyes harshly, and he looked at her confused and a little bothered. He was honestly raring to put a youkai down after all the disappointment he’d faced coming here. This youkai now curled in her fingers while not looking him in the eyes. She flicked her tail a few times and, next coughing into her hand, recomposed herself. She put one hand on her hip, put out her chest, and presented her other hand to him in a way that oddly enough evoked a businesslike sense to him. “I don’t wander Muenzuka looking for a fight. I’m not even here looking for humans. I’m here for treasure. You’re looking for treasure, right? How about you settle down, I find some for you, and we let bygones be bygones.”

“What?” Gen felt vexed.

“You’re not that strong, I can feel that much, but if you’re gonna be so damn _pushy_...”

“What sort of youkai are you? Beast youkai should be more aggressive than this, even mice-kind.”

“I’m a special being,” the mouse touched her fingertips over her breast, met his gaze, and spoke with absolute, blunt pride, “my name is Nazrin, and I am an emissary sent from Mount Meru on a sacred duty of no minor importance. I am a leader of mice, a finder of lost things, and ever first an observer of Bishamonten. After all this am I youkai.”

“Oh~, Bishamonten...” Yuuka spoke up, sounding impressed.

“You really are civilized,” said Gen, still not lowering his book.

The mouse closed her eyes and went on. “I meant you no offense,” she said, “I meant only to continue on as I always do and not face distractions. I apologize for my rudeness.”

And she bowed.

Nazrin did not lift her head. She bowed with all respect. After several moments passed, Gen returned his book to his belt and answered her, “Lift your head. If you want to apologize, do it with your actions. Find me something... if you please.” He remembered politeness as his temper subsided. Muenzuka and its repulsive existence were doing things to him... He really did want to use those magics he’d practiced, though. He sighed, and finally added: “Preferably something magical, or usable for magic.”

Nazrin stood straight, bright-eyed, and replied, “Yes! Let us not waste any time.” She took her rods from the crook of her arm and lifted them once again like pistols, despite their length. Before she began dowsing in earnest, she looked into Yuuka’s face and spoke in a well-mannered tone, “Thank you for the treasure, and for holding it now. Would you mind if I asked you your name?”

The florist shook her head. “Don’t worry about it,” she said. “And, I don’t mind. My name is Kazami Yuuka.”

Gen, who had begun to walk past these two, noticed as he did so that the treasure hunter was not moving at all. He looked back and caught Nazrin’s expression for just a second as she locked eyes with Yuuka. She had looked terrified, but after the second passed she quickly stared at the sleeping higanbana at her feet and spoke under her breath.

“I see...” she said. Shortly after, she quietly declared, “... Well, let us go.”

The mouse began to walk. Gen met Yuuka’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. Noticing his stare, she gave him a practiced smile, lifted the Chia Pet, and chuckled lightly.

~~

* * *

Anchor: G6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1147207)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rB7XFQgJHBI> ]  
[タイニーリトル・アジアンタム - TOHO BOSSA NOVA 2 (ShibayanRecords)]

“Ah, over there; I have a good feeling about this, Mister Customer.”

“You keep calling me that. Am I supposed to pay you after this? I’m afraid I don’t have any money.”

“Habit. People _usually_ pay me for this.”

With Nazrin as their helper they still took a long time at Muenzuka, but this was his last hope of finding something worthwhile. He was putting faith in dowsing rods... what he knew to be utter bogus, but they probably worked in Gensokyo. They didn’t react to garbage, he was certain of that at least, and according to Nazrin she had found genuine treasures here before and that was her entire reason for apparently setting up a home on the mound. To assure him, she mentioned a handful of obscure, legendary artifacts she’d had appraised at “Kourindou”. He still didn’t know what that was, but coupled with how Yuuka mentioned it earlier he figured it must be something like in a game he’d been playing before he was brought here: an American game called _Diablo II_. A character would identify items. Simple. The explanation worked for him.

As he realized he was missing home, Nazrin stopped them all, announcing, “Here!”

They stood before a field of unburied dead.

He clasped his hand over his mouth and brought down his eyebrows.

“It looks like the underneath of a graveyard slipped here.” Nazrin spoke without a single bit of concern. She spoke like a tour guide. “This happens sometimes with hidden gravesites of heretics, heathens, and cultists.”

“Yes,” Yuuka agreed.

“Oh... So it’s not youkai...” he whispered.

“No, those are youkais’ work,” Nazrin answered and pointed to the left of the corpses. There, he saw many fresh bodies lying with open wounds, dismembered, bitten, and with flesh ripped off obviously by teeth. His eyes widened. “Looks like they didn’t finish,” Nazrin commented, stepping into the older dead before them.

“The higanbana won’t bloom very well with corpses piled so high...” Yuuka spoke sadly as she walked toward the newer dead, “I hope the cremator comes soon to take care of this.”

Gen followed her.

Nazrin called to them while they walked: “Those would be grave robbers, likely! Scavengers who felt they’d gotten lucky! I’m near the treasure now, just give me a few minutes!”

The two stopped before them.

“... It still only smells like ashes,” was all Gen had to say.

“Bodies may only begin to rot after a day.”

“It _is_ a little sweet though.”

“Blood, and spit.”

He grimaced.

 _If I’d been unlucky... would I be in such a pile, then burned the night after?_ Gen thought this as he lowered his eyelids. He thought... there was probably something he should do here, he just didn’t know what it was.

“What are you thinking?” Yuuka asked him, still fondling the terracotta pig and its bushy, sprouted life.

“I’m thinking...” he was going to speak, and merely trailed off.

“Might you have been in that pile?” she asked, smirking at his side.

“No. I’m not... worthless.” He had still been holding a hand over his mouth, now he touched his temple. “I... don’t think I’d ever fall so low as to loot graves.”

“You’re doing that right now,” she teased.

He huffed from his nostrils, turning up his lips just a bit.

“No, I’m getting someone to do it for me, and it’s coincidence anyway...” dropping his hand, he next admitted: “but, I’m not against it. I think if I fell into this world again as I am now, I might end up here.”

“You _are_ an outsider.”

_Uh oh._

“No.”

“Don’t worry...” with these words, Yuuka smiled at him. “I knew, and I won’t tell anyone else.”

He answered her with a frustrated look before returning his gaze to the grave robbers. “Hmph. Maybe I am a bad boy.”

“You’re not,” Yuuka answered flatly. “You’re not yet.”

He folded his arms and stared at her again. Looking askance at the bodies, he told the florist: “Whatever I am, and whatever I’ll be, I don’t want to be weak like this. I hope I’m not weak like this.”

Yuuka looked at the bodies too, and answered: “I wonder...”

“FOUND SOMETHING!”

Nazrin had a loud yell. They turned and saw her shadow waving to them through the miasma of death filling the area. Glancing at one another for a moment, they went to her.

“Look,” Nazrin lifted the treasure to Gen, “my dowsing rods went _wild_ over this.”

“...” He looked at it silently. The treasure was a crimson book... still-gripped by the corpse that held it. He didn’t feel comfortable prying it off.

“Take it out the man’s hand,” he ordered. Nazrin blinked, confused, then tore it out the grasp—the fingers breaking off in small bursts of dust.

“Pretty old dead, it seems,” she said, handing it to Gen once more.

Somewhat reluctantly, he took the book, kneeling down to sit beside Nazrin, who was excitedly breathing through her nose. Yuuka handed her back the Chia Pet, and she gripped it with both hands whilst wearing an expression exuding drive and anticipation. He looked in her eager face for a while before flipping over the book to its cover and dusting it off.

“... How do you say this?” Gen wondered aloud about the title on it.

“ _Rrezguinna_. It means ‘red skin’.” Yuuka’s answer came from knowledge of language, not the book. He looked at her and blinked. “There are flowers that only Iceland knows,” she explained, “so I know Icelandic.”

He looked at the cover again. The book’s title was “Rauðskinna”, scarred into it and seemingly tattooed there as well. It felt like something he could easily identify when he held it in his hands. It was a grimoire: a sickeningly potent one. Grimoires like this were things Master Patchouli didn’t allow him to yet use (just to sort), saying they were explicitly for youkai—and so very dangerous. She’d told him, “Well, they’re not all _for youkai_ , but if you want to fall into becoming one...”

This large and several-hundred paged red skin book had an appropriate title. It was bound in thin red leather, though on close inspection he could see that, strangely enough, it wasn’t dyed. By touch and sight, he felt the skin used to create this wasn’t Earthly, or at least not the earth he knew. He was reminded of Western devils, not like his Mistress but like those from Christian Hell: blood-skinned fiends, supplicants of evil, powers bid from desperate and dark-hearted mortals. He supposed you could call this a “treasure”... but just holding it made him nervous.

He flipped it open.

“What’s it say!?” Nazrin perked up at the sight of many foreign words.

“I can ‘read’ it, but...” Gen of course knew Roman letters, but the way they were arranged here was entirely strange.

“It’s more Icelandic.” Yuuka knelt with them now. She had her parasol open again. “Turn to the first page with words, Gen.”

He obeyed. She read.

“... Looks like you have a spell book of entirely forgotten magic. I’ve never heard of it, of course, but it claims to be capable of some very funny things.”

“‘Funny’?” He repeated, looking at Yuuka like she must’ve made a mistake.

“Funny!” She said no more than that, only smiling at him after.

 _I need to get this to Master_ , he thought, his worry showing plain on his face as he flipped through the book.

“... Thank you, Nazr—” he was about to speak with the mouse, and when he looked in her direction saw her hand nearing the tome, fingers eager wiggling. He repeated himself, “Thank you, Nazrin. I think this is perfect.”

“Ah... I want it...” she was talking to herself.

“Sorry, you said you’d give it to me. You get the pig.”

“The pig... is pretty good...”

 _Man, it’s really not._ He felt guilt.

“The day isn’t out,” he told her. “I really suggest you look for another treasure before you turn in.” Gen strapped the Rauðskinna to his belt and made to stand up.

Nazrin remembered her attitude. “You trashed the pot before, but why? What do you know?”

Gen glanced to the side for a moment before leaning toward her and placing a hand atop her head. He waited for her to look into his eyes before saying, “Because I’m an outsider. I know what I’m talking about.”

Nazrin shut up. She looked at the Chia Pet, frowned, and then looked at him. “You shouldn’t have told me that,” she said.

“I know, but I’m feeling guilty.” Gen stood up fully, looking down at the youkai. “That... treasure might actually be special, but where I come from these terracotta things are just a trend.”

“You’re really an outsider?” the youkai asked.

And he answered, “Yes...”

“... Humph. You’re insane.” Nazrin stood up as well. She stared, disappointed, at the statuette.

“... You should still keep it, but...” Gen tried to reassure her, and then looked from left to right. Recalling, he stuck a hand in his pocket, and withdrew something, presenting it to the treasure hunter. “Have this,” he said, “a gift.”

“... Huh.” Nazrin received the object in one of her hands and gazed through it. It was a sphere of glass encasing water and depicting a wintry scene from a famous foreign play, with little statues of mice encircling and performing obeisance to a triumphant and proud Mouse King.

“From _The Nutcracker_ , a foreign ballet.” He pointed at it and explained. “Call it coincidence or fate, I guess,” he spoke frivolously, and shrugged, “I don’t think it counts as a treasure, but I found it before we came across each other. Picked it up ‘cause I’ve always like snow globes.”

Nazrin was quiet, watching small white flakes fall in the glass.

“Take it, put it on a shelf with the pig; remember the stupid human you met that day.” He blinked, and then decided to bow to the youkai. “I was rude today myself, so I apologize. I hope we can meet another day as fair acquaintances, Nazrin.”

“Feh, if you bow your head before me I’m likely to step on it. Get out of here before I decide to.”

_She sure flipped quick._

Gen rose, nodded, and faced Yuuka, now ready to say farewell to this blasted mound.

“Hey, Gen: one more thing.”

Gen stopped and turned back to Nazrin, lifting an eyebrow.

She looked between him and Yuuka and said, “Be careful, alright?”

“Oh... thank you, I will.” He nodded again and gave the mouse a simple salute, saying, “Goodbye. See you another time, with money in my pocket.”

He smiled; she did not take her eyes from Yuuka. So they left the Mound of the Nameless, one confused and one conspiring.

~~

* * *

Anchor: H6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2743050)

* * *

“Yuuka, could you give me back my necklace now?”

As they walked down the Road of Reconsideration, Gen noted that the sun was falling. Daylight was going to be nearly out, and he hadn’t met a single threatening youkai. He felt like he’d only accomplished half of his tasks as he held the Rauðskinna in his fingers and glanced at it on his waist.

Yuuka answered him with the necklace already in hand, “Of, course,” she paused between her words. He had come to the conclusion by this point that Kazami Yuuka was definitely odd.

He received his token and put it back on. They stood at the exact middle of the path. He wondered if he should offer to guide her to the Human Village... not that he knew where it was.

“So, Itou Gen: human playing at magician,” Yuuka began speaking once he’d slipped the vial of Remilia’s blood into his shirt.

“Kazami Yuuka... florist with too much time on her hands.”

Yuuka gave one, great, powerful laugh. He immediately lost his good humor. It was a laugh that pounded through him and made the trees and grasses flinch. “Oh...” Yuuka moaned, wiping a tear from her eye. She looked at him, happy in earnest, and said, “Let me finish.”

“How long have you been playing?” she asked.

“‘Playing’... Play—?”

“At magic,” she clarified.

“Two... and a half months.”

“What magic do you use?”

“A variety... Elements, mostly.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

“I do.”

“Why?”

“Because...” Gen paused, “... well, it makes me feel strong.”

“You like feeling strong?”

“I suppose.”

“But, _are you_?”

“Huh?” Gen was beginning to think in his fraternization with Yuuka, he had erred terribly.

“ _Are you strong, Itou Gen?_ ”

“I am not,” he answered firmly, “but I’m not an ordinary human anymore.”

“There was a girl...” Yuuka started to speak like she would speak at length, and looked into the orange sky, walking back toward Muenzuka. “There is a girl, who was a girl, who was like you. She found power, and grasped it, and unlike you—” Yuuka, for a moment, flashed her eyes at him; they shined “—she felt she was strong. I bullied her a little, and she proved it. When I had met that girl, I was allowed to crush her.” Yuuka stopped looking at the sky and now looked at him fully, now stepping backward. Beneath the parasol she no longer needed, he could hardly see her face. The hairs all over his body were raised with a chill. “She stopped me,” she finished, “I am wondering: can you?”

“Gen, remember when I told you that good boys don’t lie, by omission or otherwise? That applies to good girls, too. Unfortunately for you, I’m a bad girl.” Once more, Kazami Yuuka spoke with love in her words. She stopped, now quite a ways from him, and beamed.

“Of course, stupid boy: I’m a youkai!”

He swallowed. He’d wanted to fight today, but every part of his being was _screaming_ to leave.

Yuuka brought down and closed her parasol. Wind swept over the road and tossed her hair. Her dress rippled, her shirt rippled, she showed him her practiced smile.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iv6QEGBzKoc> ]  
[バトル！風見幽香 – 幻奏演舞 幻想人形演舞MusicCollection (FocasLens)]

“I think you can grow incredibly well, but somebody’s put you in the wrong soil too early. I’m going to have to hurt you a bit... no, a lot~, and punish the gardener.”

Spreading upward faster than he could see the air behind her and skies above were filled with rows of red magic. Yuuka lifted her parasol, pointed it at him, and a light sparked from its point.

He cast a magic of air at his feet.

Itou Gen shot up into the sky with sudden force. Where he had been, every bullet collided, and from the point of Yuuka’s umbrella shot a ray of magical power so immense that even here it felt close to touching him.

“Fuck...” he whispered English. He found himself doing that when things got bad.

He called winds to slow his fall. Yuuka tapped her “weapon”, and let him come to ground. Then, she did the exact thing she’d just done.

“Seriously!?” Gen whipped his hand right and blasted wind so that he was hurtled into the sleeping flowers at his left, narrowly avoiding the barrage and blast. Rolling with some skill, he managed to stop in a kneeled position, spotting a second Yuuka, aiming her umbrella. He tore out a spell card from his sleeve and gave a shot.

“Earth Sign: ‘Mysterious Tectonics’!”

The card crumbled away. He puffed out his cheeks and leapt forward at once, just as the umbrella sparked. A column of earth erupted from under him—under his stomach, knocking the wind out of him but moving him quickly out the way of Yuuka’s attack. While stone and earth burst forth all around him, he felt himself falling. He looked down, and saw that her magic had torn through the rocks like a hose through tissue paper. He used wind to blast himself again, this time shooting air left and so moving right. He could not land with skill now, so when he fell he only tumbled like a stone. When he recovered, he saw more bullets coming at him from overhead.

_Give it a rest!_

He ran now, thinking desperately what he could possibly do to get some sort of footing and launch attacks of his own.

He pulled back. A laser fired where his foot would’ve next landed. He looked to his left, and saw Yuuka was flying, alone now, with sunflower heads spinning in place around her. From them came the lasers, and still she cast more bullets. At least now she wasn’t using that ridiculous beam.

She lifted her parasol. Gen cursed himself.

This was basically an impossible fight. When he came to Muenzuka, he was expecting something tough, but Kazami Yuuka was unreal. The casual, intense display of strength reminded him of how the ordeal with the wayward sea being had ended. He had a theory as to why all other youkai had vanished from the road and mound.

The landscape still rumbled from his spell card. He noted the dust of the earth kicking up nearby, and leapt over the clouds. Underfoot, earth launched him up, and again Yuuka disintegrated it at its base. He jumped from the pillar, knowing the pattern and so knowing where another would come. As he fell and a column rose, he began speaking incantations for earth. When he slammed into the rising dirt, he slammed his palm down as well, and drained some of his spirit. Columns and steps began to rise all around the area now. He allowed himself one moment to pant, and started running and leaping across them.

“You can’t fly, huh?” Yuuka commented. He could barely hear her over the sounds of their fighting. “That’s really unfortunate.” Saying this, she summoned another clone of herself. He saw that it simply... walked off of her with no theatrics or strange tearing. That alone was strange.

But, he’d expected another double. With that in mind, Gen brought his hand in toward himself, rushed through a spell and trying not to bite his tongue, and threw out his palm toward the clone. Not long after, magic began to bleed over his fingers. He had called for fire, and was panting. The fire had called for his spirit—his soul. He readied it as a lance, and he fired this lance at the second Yuuka’s heart. With mercy of fates, it hit. He hadn’t expected _that_.

The clone spiraled in on itself and vanished along with the fire. Gen redirected himself and started jumping toward Yuuka, thankful for whatever physical training the gate guard back at the mansion had put him through. The flower youkai looked at him and blinked like she didn’t expect to see him there. He rushed to a platform that had come up before her, and thrust both hands over her breasts.

“Oh my!” Yuuka gasped.

“LOREM!” As he shouted this, behind his back manifested uncountable shards of shadow and light. This was a magic spell, simple and without rune or glyph. This was something that touched the elements of the world only slightly, and otherwise relied entirely on Gen’s magical power. The shards twisted, then in wild and unknowable paths came for Kazami Yuuka. The youkai pulled open her parasol and raised it overhead, entirely dismissing any bullets that hit into it.

But, everything below was unguarded.

The greater brunt of Gen’s attack was received by Yuuka’s torso and lower body. As it pounded her, he prepared another volley, and when he was ready to invoke it, Yuuka looked down at him, taking her left hand from her umbrella’s handle, palm up.

“That was nice,” she complimented, and she flicked Gen in the forehead.

It felt like he had been struck by lightning. Next he knew he was to the ground, lying in a bed of flowers. After a second, a gust of wind blew all over the area, and there was a sound like an explosion.

“I gave you a soft landing,” Yuuka said, “let’s not end this quick.” She spun her parasol in front of her, bullets turning off it in absurd quantity.

Gen looked around for one of the staircases he’d summoned and made a run for it. He safely dodged her assault, ducking, hopping, and turning when he needed, but made no time to praise himself over it. He ran on a rock staircase, heading for Yuuka again.

“Why do you keep coming at me?” she asked, still spinning her umbrella and overfilling the sky.

“Seems like it throws you off,” he answered.

“Oh, like this?” Yuuka vanished, and next appeared before him on the stairs. He stopped, and stepped back. She wore a frightening face, and pulled back her right fist.

Gen took a short step right, and the flower girl let loose a jab—or, more akin to a cannon of air, born of knuckles. It blasted forth, and carved a hole through the branches of a tree behind him and ahead of her. Gen anxiously peeked at the results, shuddered, and then began to whisper an incantation. Yuuka opened her hand, and in an instant brought it left.

He was grabbed by his collar.

He was lifted.

Spun.

And finally, as gravitational force lurched and made to flip his stomach, she hurled him into the grass below.

Clouds of earth and scattered roots belched upward and spread quickly. A dark fog enveloped the area, and Gen found himself nearly blind. Being honest, he hardly had strength to attempt to look in the first place.

In the crater he had formed, Gen was wracked in pain. Still, he had to move. Though it was a struggle, he brought himself onto one knee. Kazami Yuuka appeared before him again.

“Oh...” he groaned. He was grabbed his collar, lifted, spun, and then hurled toward Muenzuka.

This time he spoke incantations while he flew—in the air, he actually had just enough time to do so. He called for water, and dirt, and brought them into one to make for himself a muddy pillar of earth. After he’d flown for over twenty meters, this caught him (with a splash) like a catcher’s mitt. It stopped him before the Mound. He’d kept his eyes closed while tearing through atmosphere, and now he pushing away from the soft wall he’d created he opened them again. Before him, Yuuka was casting more: a barrage—a curtain.

He spoke. “Air Sign... ‘Tengu Gusts: High Level’.”

He had withdrawn a spell card. It was an advanced version of one he’d used during his first duel, and he used it now to clear the assault coming toward him. Cyclones rose up and swayed, throwing leaves and dust through the air and shielding him entirely. He took a step forward, thinking about what he could do to win this. However, it was just that step. What he saw ahead had him frozen.

Ahead, amidst the sands and debris, Kazami Yuuka was walking on with total confidence in her posture, evident even in only her silhouette. He could see: she was casually dodging his spell card, and approaching.

“She’s dodging it...? But, the way I used it... Is it because this isn’t a duel?”

Gen lifted his foot to go right—an intent to escape?—but even from only that, he nearly collapsed. He still had spiritual power to spare, but Yuuka had simply beaten the life near entirely out of him. He wasn’t even scared at this moment. He couldn’t even register fear. He only felt cold, numb, and mortal.

Soon, she came to face him. Once there, she brought her pointer finger over Gen’s stomach, and poked him above his navel. Of course, it had none of the strength of an ordinary touch. He almost vomited, and thought his spine had broken. He began to fall to his knees; Kazami Yuuka caught him by his arm.

The youkai looked into his eyes with a blank face. After a few seconds, she spoke in a plain and frigid voice: “You coming to Muenzuka was a mistake. You talking to me was a mistake. You thinking you can fight was a mistake.

“Gen, youkai _kill_ you humans. _You_ humans. _You_ , from the Outside World. They would’ve just killed you. Did you want to die?”

“I wouldn’t have died,” he croaked. “Shut up.”

She wagged him in her grasp.

“Why do you think you wouldn’t have died? The youkai would be weaker than me? That doesn’t matter when there’s twenty of them, Gen.”

“I’m... not weak.”

“Aren’t you?”

She began to wrench his arm.

She began to bend it like it shouldn’t be.

He closed his eyes and _ground_ his teeth. He shouted at her.

“Stop!”

“Stop?”

She kept going. Pressure was welling, and he couldn’t control his breathing.

“Please! Please stop!” he yelled.

And she said only, “ _Stop me_.”

His limb continued to twist, slowly.

He opened his eyes and looked into Yuuka’s face. She still gazed upon him without emotion. He thought, _This won’t end here; have to do something._

[] Magic. Any Magic. Just use magic.

[] Hail Mary for her parasol.

[] Rauðskinna.

<>

[X] Rauðskinna.

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Anchor: I6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/741077)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g5HLwSDjQwo> ]  
[バトル！魔界の神 神綺 – 幻奏演舞 幻想人形演舞MusicCollection (FocasLens)]

Yuuka had his left hand. So, he reached for the red skin book with his right.

The flower youkai’s lips parted into a thin, toothy smirk.

“You idiot,” she said, and she said it like she thought him adorable.

Itou Gen opened the Rauðskinna to some random page and looked over the words, trying to see if any arrangement of letters beneath the unknown glyphs looked more like an incantation rather than a description. Kazami Yuuka continued to bend his arm meanwhile, and showed no sign that she would stop. She leaned close to his ear, and whispered into it:

“ _Sing._ ”

And after, she chuckled wickedly.

“You’re... telling me to scream?” he asked without looking at her, desperately scanning the pages.

She straightened her back, squeezed his forearm, and said: “I’m telling you to sing.”

 _Song magic?_ He now looked for repetitions, patterns, anything like a stanza.

Eventually, he found what seemed to be a section that matched what he was seeking.

There were many little blocks of repeated words and letters beside what he imagined to be notes and runes of power. Each page here began with a block of repetitive text, and was followed with lists of what he had to imagine were the names of spells. So, he began to chant one of the incantations, one starting with “ _thurisaz, thurisaz, thurisaz_ ”.

“ _Brenndur~ pornum~!_ ”

... Nothing happened. She tightened her grip, and reminded him: “If you don’t speak a spell right, won’t it just fail?”

He turned to another page and spoke, “ _tiwaz, tiwaz, tiwaz..._ ”

“ _Dreifa~ augum~!_ ”

... Nothing happened. The flower girl yanked at him.

“ _Naudhiz, naudhiz, naudhiz..._ ”

“S... _Sja~?_ ”

Nothing.

“ _Isa, isa, isa  
i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i  
i, i, i, i, i, i, s, s, s, s, s, s  
s, s, s, s, s, s, i, i, i, i, i, i  
i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i, i..._

 _Stormur~ fyogu~rra he~ima!_ ”

She broke his arm.

It... didn’t _really_ hurt, but he thought that was probably chemical. He gazed wide-eyed at his unnaturally turned limb, and his mind was blank. His stomach churned. _Then_... _Then_ it hurt. It hurt so much.

Tears filled his eyes before he could stop them, and his hand felt like it tingled, both warm and cold. Where the fracture was felt so hot – rushing; blood? Was his arm bleeding within itself? – and a sensation like he was under a thousand leagues ran from it up to his shoulder and into the tendons of his neck. Yuuka let his arm go, and so also let him drop. His wounded arm fell to the earth, and he screamed with his mouth firmly shut, fast-breathing, scattering soil, and looking at the afflicted area while feeling like a sword was being plunged through there.

Yuuka put her heel on his unbroken, fallen hand.

He brought the Rauðskinna to his face, and continued to chant. His voice was shaking, and fluttering, but he tried. Right now, in his head was the sound of a thousand horns blaring. He closed one eye. He could barely think.

_This one, try it again, “naudhiz”, try it again._

“D... _Drekka! ..._ Taekifa _iry~_... Fa _ey_ a taeki _fairy... yy..._ ”

“You were close with that one, but it wouldn’t have helped you here. Maybe in a gambling den.”

She stepped down on and sprained his thumb. Spit dropped from his mouth, and she lectured him further while stepping onto the back of his head:

“It said this book had many ritualistic magics, even with those you must sing, but there’s a little secret. The book is special.”

Gen palmed the old pages and forced his way through them. This was too confusing. He didn’t know the pronunciations. Why wasn’t this like kana? Why was the Roman alphabet used in so many different ways?

He slammed down a page. He thought, this would probably be the limit of Kazami Yuuka’s mercy. After all, she was saying...

“This is getting boring. I think I’ll kick your skull from your shoulders and into the trees~. Whoosh~!”

“ _Perthro...  
perthro, perthro  
pu— pa— pi— pe— po—  
purdh, pardh, pirdh, perdh, pordh  
po— pe— pi— pa— pu—  
p, p, p, e, e, e, r, r, r, th, th, th, r, r, r, o, o, o..._”

Yuuka put the side of her shoe against his cheek and caressed him with it. He breathed out from his nose. He touched a finger to one spell. He thought he could read this.

“ _Brehn~glahhur skohgur~_ ”

“Brenglaður skógur”, it read.

And reading it, he immediately was void of all his spirit.

But, the spell needed more. It did not _ask_ for more—it _took_. Took more. _More_ , but there was nothing left in his soul to take. It relented, it stopped, to instead begin to take from his body.

“Mmf—!”

“Isn’t it funny? Clever magician, he had it so when you use the book, you can use any spell of galdr so long as you have a body! Hahaha! It’s a riot!”

Within himself he felt the cutting of knives. He opened his mouth and bled from it. Much. His blood was murky, with slips of yellow running through. He stared at his life, vomited before him, and burning into white fire before it touched the grass and earth. Everything darkened around them. No... it was the shadows cast everywhere that were lifting... they were filling the sky with black... Dropping the grimoire, he put his functioning hand to his face. He felt like a body long-dead. He knew he was becoming pale.

Gen suffered, and curled into himself. He held onto his stomach, and Yuuka backed away.

“Let’s see what it does...” she whispered with anticipation.

What it did was kill light and take it into shade, whereupon the magic met with evil and spun everywhere. It wasn’t danmaku, but it had a curtain’s spread. Shadow became branches, and they grew with speed any place they were able. They burrowed into the distant trees. They reached and blocked the sky. This was not a spell for playfighting; it was magic meant to end an army.

The Road of Reconsideration became an obscure, twisted forest of black. Within the brambles, Kazami Yuuka did her best to dodge, but was cut on her face and arms. Her clothes were torn, and she smiled as she recognized the limitations of this sorcery were very high. It pushed her back and refused to stop. It drove her to the true forest, and chased her to the heavens.

Wiping blood from his lips, Gen was amazed to realize he was still conscious. He knelt, and then dropped his back against the wall he had summoned before, which was now only a pile of moist dirt. His teeth hurt...

He looked up and saw the foul magic still spreading. Yuuka, in the air, stopped and shoved her hand into some darkness behind her. She gripped it, and tore it asunder with unrestrained force. Much of the magic was splashed away like fallen ink, and she danced with what was left, dragging it along to make, evidently, a shape. In the end, he saw that it was the gorgeous figure of a black rose that she was carving into the sky. He admired. He waned.

Not even this could stop her.

Gen looked at the red skin book beside him, knowing he couldn’t risk casting anything else. His lips quivered.

Kazami Yuuka ceased playing and now brought her palm over the still-growing forest. Sparks flew from her fingers, and in the next moment a cascade of white and faint-blue magic came like the greatest waterfall of light.

Gen winced, and could see in the effulgence that his spell was still trying to reach for the woman of flowers, but was punished akin to Icarus at every attempt. She did not let up, and consumed the spell with hers until it was weak, and eventually done. And when it was over, she began to descend toward him.

Gen looked on in quiet awe. She looked completely surreal. Petals of flowers in all colors fell along with her, and to his delirious mind he was certain she was an angel. Not an angel so beautiful and pleasant to the new Christian eye, but a being of power from on high and beyond human comprehension. She was... a monster.

He felt serene as he began to whisper the same spell. He was going to die now, so he thought to at least give this youkai a permanent wound.

Yuuka came up to him as he neared the end of the chant. She adjusted his posture with her foot, paused, and then punted him with all might in his gut.

And of course, he instantly lost all sense.

~~

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Anchor: J6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/399012).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2225752)

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He opened his eyes and saw that he was flying through the air. The day was almost entirely gone, now. That was... Misty Lake below him. He felt he was dangling. He glanced behind himself to see that Yuuka had him by holding firm the clothes at his back. He was being carried like a plastic bag.

They began to descend in front of Scarlet Devil Mansion, Yuuka lifting him to her side and stopping several meters ahead of Meiling. The gatekeeper had been chatting with a fairy maid, but now she wore a mask of terrible worry.

“Kazami... Yuuka...” she whispered. “Why are you here? ... Tea?” she was hoping.

Yuuka brought Gen’s motionless body before herself and said, “Obviously it’s for this lost property. Sorry—” she tossed him to the ground “—I play with toys rather roughly.”

“Gen...” Hong Meiling didn’t move for him, and seemed to have said his name without thinking.

“I broke it,” she said, “but not in a way that can’t be fixed. Now I’m returning it.”

“... Sanna,” Meiling commanded the fairy beside her, “get Lady Patchouli.”

And Yuuka chirped, “Oh, thank you, I was going to ask after her.”

Meiling did not answer, and did not take her gaze from the youkai of flowers.

The master of the library came from the gate, and between her crippled apprentice and the youkai that had brought him there, she gave attention first to the boy.

“Gen...” she spoke with disbelief, and her face was both concerned and frustrated. She next looked up at Yuuka, full-angered.

“Kazami Yuuka...!” she hissed. “What were you doing at Muenzuka? The fall season isn’t yet begun.”

“Did you think he’d have done better if I hadn’t been there? Think he’d have survived?” saying this, Yuuka toed his body, and lightly kicked him over so he could face the sky.

“I know it!” Patchouli snapped. “Do you think I’ve taught him nothing!? You weren’t supposed to be there!”

“Ah~, terrible,” Yuuka spoke while frowning. “You really are like they say. You only think with books. Is it because you were born a magician? You’ve never thought about weakness?”

“My student is not weak! His level might be low... but you’re the same as a final boss!” Gen looked at his Master as she shouted and wondered where her ire was born from. Was it just that Yuuka had meddled in her work? “I expected it to be tough on him taking the road and searching the mound, but _you?_ And you have the gall to show him to me like this. How brazen!”

“Be happy he’s only shaken up and not dead,” Yuuka replied.

“‘ _Shaken up_ ’...” the magician repeated. His Master’s voice was quaking. She was staring at him, but hadn’t seemed to notice he was awake. She yelled at Yuuka, “Be predictable! Be more like a youkai!”

“No~,” Yuuka refused. “Oh, yes: you should also be glad I taught him a lesson that you wouldn’t.”

“You scum...” Patchouli looked like she was trying to contain herself. She was gripping her hand into a fist in front of her stomach. “You’ve never nurtured someone else, so don’t lecture me.”

Yuuka shook her head.

“No, I take care of many children. You should be gentle—”

“Humans are not flowers!” Patchouli said this, and coughed. Wheezing, she closed one of her eyes and used the other to look hateful at this woman. “They...” she started again, but she was having trouble speaking, “They don’t need to be tended to hand and foot. They don’t need to be so carefully raised. They can think. Humans are not flowers. He would’ve survived...!” She looked at Gen. He opened his eyes wide, as he saw that hers were glossy and wavering. She proudly, weakly, barely declared, “... I taught him so.”

Yuuka simply replied, “I disagree.”

Now the flower youkai stepped on him.

“In fact I’ve been thinking of just squashing him for a while now to save some oxygen for other living things,” she said. “He’s that worthless.”

“How did that worthless human wound the almighty Kazami Yuuka?” the magician accused, noting the youkai’s somewhat damaged form and clearly ripped clothing.

Yuuka told otherwise, saying, “It wasn’t him, it was this.” Taking her foot from his body to let his Master see better, Yuuka pointed at the ancient red grimoire on his belt with her parasol.

And at once, Patchouli was shocked. “The Red Skin...! Gen, you found the Rauðskinna at Muenzuka!? That book!?”

Yuuka explained, “Casting from it seemed to cast from his life.”

“It would—” Patchouli began, but paused—looking like she wanted to grab up the tome before calming herself “—but that proves _it_ _was him_. If he was too weak, the spells of that grimoire would’ve devoured him completely. Besides...” she locked eyes with Yuuka as she spoke, “the only reason he would’ve even used such a thing would be because you forced his hand. I told him to _never_ use tomes of this sort, and he would only disobey me if it meant his life.”

Patchouli continued speaking, holding tight a book she had brought with her from the library, “My Gen has vowed to study under me. He wouldn’t die today, not even to you, flower harridan.”

“Excellent word,” Yuuka complimented. She then said, “It’s unfortunate we disagree on this point. Really, nothing was going to change my mind and I’m sure even the book-dumb you knew that. I’ve decided you need to be punished for being a poor gardener.”

“Try it,” spoke the mage, “I’m in no kind mood right now. You see, a weed’s sprouted on our lawn.”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DM1KXXPROEE> ]  
[バトル！魔界の住人たち – 幻奏演舞 幻想人形演舞MusicCollection (FocasLens)]

“This... never gets old,” Yuuka spoke nostalgic, and was openly pleased. She smiled, and lifted her parasol.

“I told you, I’m in no mood.” His Master’s face was stone-like, severe, and refined in loathing. It was an expression he’d never seen. She was defying his every expectation. She ordered: “Meiling, take care of Gen. And, get out of the way... I’m going to kill this girl.”

She began an incantation.

Meiling, with a face telling recognition, ran between the two other youkai and grabbed Gen up, taking care with the arm she saw to be broken. She had to near Yuuka to do this, and she’d thought she’d moved fast enough to not be noticed, but the woman had clearly looked into her eyes as she went past. Despite herself, the brief connection made her feel sick. She brought Gen to one of the mansion’s outer walls, and shook the sensation off herself. She gazed down at the human, and then moved that gaze to his teacher.

Meiling had seen Patchouli like this a few times before. They were all times when Miss Sakuya or the Mistresses of the house had been truly threatened back in the Outside World. She wasn’t sure Lady Patchouli felt toward Gen how she felt to those she could call family, but Meiling could tell this human had value in the magician’s eyes now. What Patchouli Knowledge valued, she always fiercely protected.

“You erred to meet me after nightfall,” spoke the magician now. “The lunar goddess of Ellada watches us in earnest. Moon Sign: ‘Silent Selene’.”

The card she held became dust, and moonlight dropped to her from the sky like fired from cannons. The light splashed down and then wrapped her body before rocketing up in what looked to be solid beams fanning behind her. Squinting, one could see individual bullets in these lines. With her standing still, Gen thought she looked radiant like a goddess herself. She began to lift into the air, and Yuuka followed her ascent looking entirely unperturbed.

“A Western Goddess invoked with Eastern magic...” the flower youkai muttered. “Patchouli Knowledge, I enjoy your style.”

In reply, his Master said: “Shut up.” Blue diamonds speckled in front of her, while the lines of light behind her started to increase in number and form a circle of bullets around her, like a reversed cage. “Dodge.”

“Scary, scary~,” Yuuka mocked as the barrage came. She did as she was told, and slipped through. Because Patchouli moved as well, it wasn’t a matter of simply getting out the way; she had to keep track of the other woman’s movements, as well as those little speckles she had brought out to go along with the ring of moonlight. Those were the real trouble—almost sneaking up on the flower youkai as she moved. Her smile remained, and her movements were noticeably slow, but she was certainly paying attention. For her fire, she shot at the magician a great number of flower petals.

Once the card was captured, Patchouli had another readied.

“Moon Sign: ‘Sleep Forever, Endymion’.”

This time moonlight swam around the sky in waving and curving streams. In this almost hypnotic, sea-like curtain, movement was hardly allowed. Yuuka cooed; to be in this barrage felt like she was facing an astral flood. Patchouli Knowledge kept in place, and directed this beautiful chaos with calm.

And now the magician’s enemy failed, slipping here twice. In Yuuka’s turn, she first fiddled with the cuffs of her shirt and whispered to herself, “Wow~... tough, tough.”

The youkai closed her eyes and slowly drew out a paper card from her sleeve. She held it up, looked on it with a tiny frown, and said, “I won’t hesitate either. Simple Sign: ‘Little Spark’.”

The card disappeared, and she aimed her parasol at the magician.

“This nonsense...” Patchouli complained. She quickly spoke to conjure several books she needed from her library, bringing them in through floating glyph-portals (it was something she could only do this near to the mansion). They followed her in the sky, and with them she began to fire just as Yuuka unleashed her spell.

It was a massive beam, roaring and swelling, swallowing the sky. It _was_ a spell Patchouli was used to, however. She dodged it smoothly, with a movement that told experience. That being said... compared to the “Master Spark”, this spell was fiercer—wilder. Unrefined... “pure”.

In short order, the air above the mansion was bursting with flowers and spellwork. The two magic-users, of two different kinds, had started their battle in earnest.

From the ground, Meiling abruptly spoke to Gen. “You’re awake, Sir Gen?”

He only hardly managed a reply of “yes”.

“Your qi... has become like that of a youkai’s,” she told him.

And he answered, “Shit...” groaning as he tried to lift his body. “Did I turn?” he asked.

Meiling answered, “No, it seems like your qi is only tainted. It’s dissipating. I think you’re gonna be a human yet.”

“I messed up...” he spoke bitterly and sat up, resting against the gatekeeper, “and now Master Patchouli’s fighting that girl. She’s—”

“She’s decided to fight for you, Sir Gen,” Meiling interrupted him.

He firmly shook his head. “Nonsense. She’s mad over me, sure...”

“If Lady Patchouli loses this fight, Miss Yuuka will come to kill you.”

“Huh?” He looked back at Meiling over his shoulder.

“The flower youkai wants to know if Lady Patchouli has enough strength to raise a powerful human. She has a little interest in those,” Meiling explained. “So, if she wins, she’ll know you have no heights to reach, and will cut you down early.”

“Isn’t that just your speculation?” he guessed. “Isn’t she only teasing?”

“Miss Yuuka is infamous for her teasing, yes...” admitted the guard. “But she’s also infamous for unceremonious killing. You had better hope Lady Patchouli succeeds, Sir Gen. She’s fighting now to save your life.”

Gen turned his eyes to the now colorful and bright night sky, assailed with pink flowers, spokes of yellow energy, and interlocking circles of auburn and gold. One of Yuuka’s spell cards... and one Patchouli seemed to be taking great effort to avoid. He gazed at his fierce Master, and felt he had much to think about.

Up above, the card was captured, to Patchouli’s exclamation of “Yes...!” She raised her left hand over her right shoulder and invoked the moon once more. Light touched her fingertips, and she turned herself in a graceful, full rotation. In four directions, arcs of moonlight were cast from her turning, and in four directions between more arcs came in reverse. Yuuka grazed between the spotlights with her parasol held close. Then, Patchouli brought up her grimoire, and fires flew out of it. In a pulse, a pulse, and another pulse, flame billowed out around her and engulfed the air in heat. Yuuka put on a sneer and looked at Patchouli, who only looked at her book. The flower woman flew to the right as the magician glided to her left, and she grazed the fires with a hand full of petals. She was not playing: her own barrage was unrelenting.

Patchouli Knowledge, however, was not done. She shot a glance at Yuuka and returned to the center of their field of battle. Again she spun out lights, and again she summoned fires, yet now both came without mercy. It was a pattern she used knowing she would hit—and she did.

“Woooww!” Yuuka exclaimed as her hand and arm were bathed in fire. Patchouli only continued, shifting to something that would target the other youkai directly, and so striking her more.

And when that was done, she drew another card. She spoke the incantation, and began to declare the spell.

“Fire, sunder metal and from its ashes deliver  
Earth, drink of water and forge  
Metal, ruin wood at its roots and sweat  
Water, swallow fire and feed  
Wood, grow from the soil of the earth and burn into—

Fire Water Wood Metal Earth Sign... ’Philosopher’s Stone’!”

Yuuka gasped in joyous surprise, calling: “Your signature card already, is it!?”

“That’s Master Patchouli’s ultimate magic?” Gen asked.

“It’s her favorite, at least,” Meiling replied.

Patchouli did not answer her enemy. She shut her eyes and pointed to the stars as magic rose from her body and began to crystalize. This spell crackled with spirit and strength, and even from down at the walls, Meiling and Gen felt the overwhelming force of nature pushing down on them. In an instant, surrounding Patchouli manifested five stones of separate colors—each surely representing an element. The magician opened her eyes, showing that dark circles had formed under them. She now breathed out her mouth in loud rasps. Opposite, with excitement filling her breast, a grinning Yuuka was soon faced with a nature storm.

Gen stared upon a display of gorgeous, preeminent sorcery and might. From the crystals around his Master came all sorts of magic in all ways. It was near everything she had, put out to put the flower youkai down. Fire crashed into spirals of metal, collapsing into earth which churned over waters and spat out lines of steel. The steel pierced branches that had begun to choke the sky and so bled out additional water, and that came against and doused the starting fire. The water spread over the forming cage of wood, and the wood thus drove down to the earth below, burst, and gave way once more to flames. The cycle continued, and it leered at Kazami Yuuka.

“How wonderful it is,” shouted the youkai as the violent, conjured nature drew near to her, “magic of art and practice—I am _very_ impressed, Patchouli Knowledge!”

The flower youkai dove heedless into the craft and fury, and she grazed it all.

Meanwhile Gen below found himself once again entranced.

“When I came here...” he said, watching Yuuka narrowly avoid impalement by spikes of metal, “... what convinced me to stay was Master Patchouli’s magic.”

“Really?” Meiling asked.

Yuuka was swallowed by water and crested out of it wearing a maniacal grin.

“Yeah...” Gen answered, “and now I remember what had me amazed.” The florist was pushed back by a soaring root system. She grasped at it from its top and pushed herself out its path, spinning in the sky with her parasol out and open. She was gleeful... She held out her hand, and at once a storm of flowers met with the storm of Mother Nature. Gen finished in a whisper, saying:

“Lady Patchouli is too incredible.”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lem4kX0iE7c> ]  
[ヴアル戦記 – 東方映画音楽選 - Toho Film Music Selection - ～ 紅幻奏詩 (Tutti Sound)]

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Anchor: K6

_Master's spark_

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/945194)

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Meiling smirked at the human in her hands and whispered, “... She’s something else.”

The magician was buffeted by flower petals, and suddenly her magic came to an end. Yuuka opposing her was quite battered, and had this to say:

“Now, I’ll show you absolute, raw, and terrible power.”

Master Patchouli had a hand over her chest and was grabbing there. She had one squinted eye set on Yuuka, and her breathing had gone completely ragged.

Yuuka closed her parasol and took out her coup de grâce: one last spell card to finish this.

“Natural Magic: ‘Unleashed, Unbridled, Fantastic Twin Spark’.”

Again the paper vanished, and out from her image walked a clone of herself. The two Kazamis glanced at one another, then each raised their weapons at a mirrored pace, locking on Patchouli. As lightning arced over and between the umbrellas’ points, flowers endlessly bloomed at their backs, over their heads, and threatened to block the light of the moon. The flora rushed down, and as it did the pair sent forth their natural magic, with force and spread to slay a mountain.

Patchouli pushed herself left, and stopped and started between falling flowers; dodging, but not dodging well. Any could see she was nearing her limits, and when the sweep ended and Yuuka began preparing another wave, the magician began coughing, hacking, and wheezing in a painful fit.

“Lady Patchouli!” the two at ground both shouted for her at once.

The mage went through the next wave with her eyes blearing—hardly capable of maintaining her own firing let alone keeping pace with the bullets and sheer magic. She grazed everything, but it seemed by accident and chance. She settled before Yuuka when the wave was done, sweat falling off her forehead, and brow furrowed. She ground her teeth together, and spoke with all the power that she had left.

“I am... a magician of seven days,” she declared, picking up her head and withdrawing a monochrome card from her sleeve, “don’t think that my magic ends with only five.”

Patchouli Knowledge straightened herself and made steady her face, exhaling sharp through her nose. As she wheezed through her following incantations, she placed her hand over her heaving breast. When finished, she breathed out in shakes, and stared pointedly at the sparks gathering at the parasols’ ends.

“Now”, said the librarian, gripping her dress with trembling fingers, “let me show you how _I’d_ do it.”

With orange color and shining flame lurching about her like smoke and water, Patchouli drew out something powerful from herself. Focusing as much as he could, Gen saw that it was a star. His Master put a perfect sun into her palm, held it up, and there announced the name of her next spell card:

“Sun Moon Sign...!

‘Diurnal... _Spark’!_ ”

Light came down from the night, pounded the air, and dazzled those below with its effulgence. Tempered through her book, from her soul’s sun and the moon above, it dashed around her and focused on her arm. Crawling over her sleeve like vines and subsequently flowing forth, the cosmic energies began to combine in front of her, shimmering, and beating as a heart. Moonlight and sunlight both were radiant and gleaming, and as his Master turned her fiercest gaze onto Kazami Yuuka he saw tears in droplets shining off her cheek. His Master slowly brought back her hand, steadied herself, and pushed fast against the mass of magic before her to cast.

When she cast, Yuuka cast, and in seconds their magic met violent and mad over the waking Scarlet Devil Mansion.

His Master’s “spark” brought together luminescence that should never show at once, impossible and roaring with as much, if not more width and energy than the two rays and floral avalanche it pushed against. It shone to the East and West, it shone over the lake, lifting heads of humans and youkai alike to the spectacle. Something was happening at the Devil’s house. There was a battle for something which mattered dearly.

Patchouli openly grit her teeth,  
Kazami Yuuka (both) bared hers in a grin,  
Meiling hugged Gen to herself as power scattered everywhere, even all the way to earth, their clothes and hair whipping around them.

“Master...!”  
“Do it, Lady Patchouli!”

“Ah...” the true Yuuka uttered when she noticed fluctuation where their attacks met. She smiled thinly, as Patchouli’s spell broke and began to swallow hers.

Like a fist breaking through ice, the Diurnal Spark tore through the twins’. From great distances the deafening grasp for triumph could be seen and heard. The ancient sorceress had all her soul invoked, and it reached desperate and furious for the ancient flower. Where the magic met was a scattering of eldritch and crafted sorcery, waving and threatening to spill to the land and sky. Soon enough it did: errant light was carved into the earth, and clouds were cleaved in two. This sight of power rarely beheld enraptured Gensokyo wholly. Patchouli’s spell found, pushed, and consumed the double-magic and closed its jaws over her foe in overwhelming might. Seconds after, an unearthly, thunderous explosion of sound beat out and shook the world. It stilled the night, and heralded Kazami Yuuka’s defeat. Under Patchouli’s power and the rupture of energy from the fallen Yuuka, the evening sky came to completely resemble the day.

Patchouli came back to earth, panting heavily. She looked down on Yuuka and saw that the still-breathing girl was now sporting a look of satisfaction on her face... though her body was smoking and her clothing had now been fully ruined. Ignoring her, the magician walked toward her apprentice and the gatekeeper. When she stopped before them, she inhaled deeply, and exhaled as long. With a forcefully composed expression, she told her broken student this:

“Gen... good work today.”

* * *

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1997712)

* * *

~~

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Anchor: L6

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1792856)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vKfWOl0HmSQ> ]  
[ラクトガール ～ 少女密室 – TOHO SKA PARADISE ORCHESTRA (EcN)]

“Gen, you look terrible.”

“He looks pathetic, Mistress Remilia!”

“Hmph. That’s just what to expect when you fight with someone strong, stu~pid. Now you look like an idiot.”

“He shouldn’t be looking at all, himself. Gen: go to sleep.”

“I’m sure he’s awake due to the agony in his arm, Lady Patchouli.”

“Aiyaa... I didn’t look at it close before, but agh... look at that swelling...”

Gen blinked while resting shirtless in a medical room within the Scarlet Devil Mansion. His Master was carefully treating his broken left arm in her hands with ointments, a towel, and ice. She said he didn’t need surgery, as Yuuka had been merciful enough to not deliver on him critical injury like ripping his bone through his skin. She’d have him in a cast and get him back to work and tutelage after the rest of the damage to his body had healed. It would probably take a few days, she wagered, while the arm would take months. She next raised his arm with a propping medical device, and while reading up on fractured bones gently massaged his sprained thumb with her free hand to encourage blood flow.

In the room were all those of import at Scarlet Devil Mansion, along with some fairy maids. One maid was at the foot of his bed with her arms crossed on top of it. She was mimicking Mistress Remilia, who did the same thing near his face. Sakuya and Meiling stood behind the vampire, looking over his beaten form with an amused yet pitiful expression and a muddled expression respectively, and Flandre seemed mostly disinterested while sitting on a nightstand nearby. However, Flandre was there in the first place, so that meant she must be very interested.

“While you’re not listening to me and staying awake,” started his Master, “about the Rauðskinna.”

“What about it?” he replied.

“You used it, huh,” she said.

“Oh... yes. Sorry, Master.”

“Yeah. I’m going to take it and research it thoroughly before it ever touches your hands again.”

“I am entirely fine with that,” he told her, honestly.

His Master puffed breath through her nose and smiled.

“Did you know? The book was supposed to be untitled. It’s been defaced. There were gold runes on it once, but they’ve apparently been shaved off.”

“No kiddin’,” he commented with a smirk, then winced.

“How bad does that hurt, anyway?” came a question from Flandre.

“I really don’t want to think about it, Mistress Flandre.”

“I’m gonna kick it.”

“Cut it out, Flandre,” scolded the older sister.

And the little sister stuck out her tongue, “Bleh~! I’ve never been really hurt, so I just kinda wonder about it.”

So, Gen answered, “Well... it’s basically feeling heavy and squeezed, and sometimes it feels like I’m getting stabbed.”

“Oh! Stabbed!” saying this, Flandre put her hands behind herself, leaned forward, and bounced with high energy. Her colorful, diamond-shard wings shook with the motion. “Like with Sakuya’s knives!” she said.

“Mhm.”

“Honestly, go to sleep already,” chided his Master again.

“But,” spoke the Scarlet Devil, “while you’re ignoring Patche: how well did you do against Kazami Yuuka?”

The Mistress looked into his eyes expectantly. He turned them away, twisted his lips, and replied somewhat shamefully:

“I didn’t. At all.”

“When you go out, Gen,” Mistress Remilia said, pointing at his face, “you represent Scarlet Devil Mansion, and so you represent me. You should at least put in a show of effort.”

“I did avoid all her attacks and land many of my own on her, without a spell card in fact. That is, before she started handling me like a butcher flipping meat.”

Remilia lifted her brow and opened her mouth, looking impressed. “Ohh!” she breathed. “Well now, for someone who can’t fly that’s pretty good, isn’t it!?”

“Sakuya~,” Flandre called the head maid while pointing at her with her shoe, “why haven’t you taught him how to fly, yet?”

“Me, Mistress Flandre?”

“You’re human, after all.”

“Why, I suppose I am,” the maid agreed before indicating to Patchouli across the bed, “but it is Lady Patchouli who will decide when he learns that.”

“Patchouli?” Flandre answered with a frown. She nodded ascent at the magician, and spoke to her instead (rather bluntly), “Hey, is it a pain teaching a human without wings how to fly?”

“Yes,” Patchouli acknowledged, to which Gen squeezed his mouth shut and brought his lower lip up in a deliberately goofy expression. His Master continued, “But mainly I want to avoid having situations like the one that happened today happening at all. Overall the risk is calculated. I just need to keep him away from any locations in Gensokyo known for their flowers for a while, regardless of season.”

“Well, until then Gen: nice job being the David to Kazami Yuuka’s Goliath.” Remilia gave her ward this compliment, and a delightful, fanged smile, facing him with her eyes now happily closed.

“He didn’t win, though, you.” Flandre was being rude.

At this rudeness, Remilia’s pleasant mood was instantly drained away, and the result shown plainly on her face. Without looking at her sibling, she tersely replied: “... _El-der sis-ter_.”

Flandre lifted her shoulders, winked, and looked to the ceiling, singing: “Scar-let Doo-fus~.”

Remilia’s wings opened up with sudden force, and her maid stood between the sisters, facing the younger. “Now, now, Mistress Flandre,” she spoke with calm, and the little sister merely looked over Sakuya’s shoulder at her sibling, putting on a deliberately smug expression. Remilia seemed to sense this; she was grasping at his sheets now. Gen closed his eyes, brow twitching.

“Oi, Sir Gen, one last thing before you nod off,” Meiling spoke, noticing Gen (but apparently not noticing the rising tension). He opened his eyes and she continued, “Don’t stop coming to train with me just because of the arm. Tai chi can help you heal your body.”

“So says the sieve,” Patchouli commented. “Do it.”

“Understood,” he confirmed with a nod.

“Ah, and one last thing from me,” said Sakuya from over her shoulder, with one hand over Remilia’s wrathful face and the other on an airborne Flandre’s, “don’t forget that you’re human, Gen.” She offered a warm expression, and Gen was taken aback.

“... Yes, Miss Sakuya,” he answered.

As the two vampires got past their maid and entered into a physical struggle, Gen got comfortable in his bed and closed his eyes. Aside from the sounds of laughter and frustration, he could only feel his hand in his Master’s.

Strangely, he felt the oncoming of tears.

He slipped below the bedcovers to try to hide his face.

He muttered quietly so only his Master could hear: “I’m happy you won today, Master Patchouli...”

“Because you got to survive, I know,” she answered, also quietly.

“No... because I’ve always had this impression that no magic out there could possibly defeat yours,” he turned his head after saying this, and finished with, “you proved that right.”

“Hmph.” His master huffed with satisfaction.

There was really much for him to think about.

But... he was just glad to be here.

He was glad to be home.

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkUFAlm4w_w> ]  
[東方萃夢想 (hatsunetsu mix.) – フォーリンサウンド (hatsunetsumiko's)]

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2051756)

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	7. Those Ordinary Matters of Life and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen visits the Road of Liminality and the Sanzu River, on the way meeting a skittish, dark-haired kappa and a half-baked, white-haired half-phantom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.7**  
>  [A7].[B7].[C7].[D7].[E7].[F7].[G7].[H7]  
> [I7].[J7].[K7].[L7].[M7].[N7]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to [https://www.touhou-project.com/](https://www.touhou-project.com/7) Be wary of **spoilers.**

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Anchor: A7

[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1177235)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a-C85bKZWqY> ]  
[Frontier Village Dali - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

To the Sanzu River, that is where Patchouli Knowledge would send him next.

He was forced to rest completely for three days, drinking strange potions his Master provided to heal his allegedly magically damaged insides. Supposedly singing for a “Twisted Forest” from the Rauðskinna had dealt him an intersection of spiritual and bodily lacerations throughout his organs. She described it as semi-phantasmal, and certainly lethal if he hadn’t someone knowledgeable around to stop it. She told him it was funny: the most dangerous thing to happen on his trip to Muenzuka was his own foolish invocation. Let this be a lesson.

So next she’d send him to the Sanzu River, a place that shouldn’t exist, so of course it existed in Gensokyo. Well, according to Patchouli it was technically only partially in Gensokyo. This was a place where you could “simply” (there was a toll in this case) go from one world to another, unlike Muenzuka where other worlds would take you without your approval. According to his Master, the Sanzu River and the Road of Liminality which led to it were not dangerous places. This would be a trip purely in the name of study. After a week of one-handed research, chores, practice, and recovery through Tai Chi, Gen awoke to the day of his next departure.

“It’s autumn, Sir Gen!” Merremia, his seemingly at this point personal fairy maid declared after waking him up.

“So it is,” he replied.

“You’re going to the Sandy River today?” she asked, fluttering up above him as he got out his bed. She went for his hair, which was an act that was becoming usual.

“Sanzu, yes. It’s behind that mountain by the lake.”

“You should go up the mountain! It’s beauuutiful this time of year!” while she said this, the fairy fluffed his hair. He realized it was getting a bit long.

“Master Patchouli says that I’m one hundred percent guaranteed to have a swift death if I go up the mountain.”

She grabbed his skull. He shut his eyes with a frown. Still a bit sleepy, honestly.

“ _Youkaaai!_ ” the fairy uttered in a deep voice. Then, she bent his head and uttered, “ _Tenguuu!_ ”

“Yeeeess...” he groaned. He opened his eyes and glanced back at the maid. “Would you help me with my upper clothes again this morning?”

“Roger!”

While he was dressed in his shirt, vest, and robe/coat he thought about what to do with the time he had in the morning before he would have breakfast with his Master and set off on his assignment. There was never one thing he always did for mornings, aside from honing his physical strength and balance with Meiling at the gate. While consistency certainly meant comfort, he was still forever a man who liked variety and the unpredictable. This was despite everything and his many near-death experiences so far.

When he had been properly dressed in his tops, he sent Merremia away and she threw warm wind into his face with a “boom!” before falling over the door backward in laughter. Really, every morning.

He’d now meet with the gatekeeper. What to do after?

[] Bother Mistress Flandre.

[] See Mistress Remilia.

[] Chat with Miss Sakuya.

[] See Wakasagihime.

<>

[X] See Wakasagihime.

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Anchor: B7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1474804)

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Alright: trousers, teeth, Tai Chi, then off to the mermaid.

~~

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sCRZFT-ByQ> ]  
[Descendent of the Shinobi - Final Fantasy VII OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

Another morning on Misty Lake, now flowing with cooler winds as summer said farewell; Gen walked along the shore until he spotted a part of it covered in weathered pebbles, and not far from a rock platform emerging from the water. There was also a somewhat large tree here with exposed roots that he’d be leaning against later. Gen reached into his robes and withdrew an oval stone with four holes bored into it and a string tied tight around it. This was a gift he’d gotten from Wakasagihime that signified his friendship to the mermaids of Misty Lake (or at least to her). It was something like a special whistle or instrument: it made no sound when blown into, but rather kept whatever sound you attempted to produce until it had been submerged. Gen rotated his left shoulder, readjusting his injured arm in its cast and sling, and then tugged the small rope ascent, jerking the rock into the air and catching it in his right hand when it fell. He next tapped on it in the points of an upside-down triangle with his thumb before bringing it to his lips. After “playing” a certain and silent sequence of three “notes” with the rock, he lastly dangled the stone by its string and dipped it underwater.

**Tone—**

**_Tone—_ **

_Tone—..._

To Gen, these sounds coming from the rippling water were faint. According to Wakasagihime, however, under the surface of the Lake these notes resounded all around and were distinct. Not loud, but noticeable wherever you were. It was clear enough to know whether you were being specifically called or someone was just fooling around with a mermaid artifact and could be safely ignored.

Gen kept squatted to his knees and waited, spinning the mermaid whistle so that the string wrapped around his finger. While holding it, he grabbed up a stone from the ground and skipped it... attempted to skip it across the lake. It simply plunged into the water. He tried again.

Soon enough the water bubbled, and Wakasagihime was breathing air, climbing onto the rock in the lake but not yet facing Gen.

“Ah~,” she moaned, “it’s getting colder. Phew,” she lowered her shoulders, having accomplished sitting on the boulder. Then, she looked over her shoulder to see her human friend waiting there. “H’lo, Gen.”

He tossed one final stone. Nope, not this one either.

“Hello, Princess,” he answered, “how have you been?”

Noting the whistle in his grasp, the mermaid commented: “Ah! You remembered to reset it this time! Also, can’t do it?” she asked, referring to the pebble he’d “skipped” and sunk.

“I’m not certain anyone can do it. I’ve only seen it in fiction, never reality.”

“Actually, I can’t ever get proper leverage while treading to do it. Hm.”

“I believe It’s just something everyone assumes people can do... Wakasagihime, you didn’t answer my question.”

“Nmm, well... the kappa have been getting a bit pushy again but it’s nothing new...” She spoke while inattentively watching clouds, kicking her tail lightly and placing her arms behind her back. After trailing off, she suddenly remembered something and turned to look at him. “Honestly, forget about that—” she spoke quickly, asking: “What happened over a week ago!?”

Gen began to think, putting his thumb under his chin, and the rest of his hand over his lips. After a moment, he realized what she meant. “Ah, right,” he replied, afterward pointing at her to say, “so you saw the battle over Scarlet Devil Mansion, did you?”

“ _Everyone_ saw it! Was the Shrine Maiden there?”

“No, it was a flower youkai named Kazami Yuuka. Master fought her and won, but it got pretty intense.”

“What’s with your hand, by the way? Is that fashion?”

She was pointing at his cast and he glanced at it before answering, “It’s broken, and partially sprained. Kazami Yuuka’s doing.”

“Broken!” she exclaimed. The princess was aghast, her hands in claws before her open mouth like she was about to bite her nails. “Gen, are you okay!?”

“Objectively speaking.” He stood up to put his back against the tree there while Wakasagihime dropped back into the lake (after all that effort getting up there... ) and swam toward him.

“Objectively!?” she spat out when she reached shore and crested the water. “In whose opinion are you not alright!?”

“Hmmm... Master’s, mainly,” he answered with a finger to his lips.

“Miss Patchouli knows a lot more than you, Gen, so she’s probably right and you’re probably not okay,” the Princess chastised him with worry on her face.

“Well, I’ll admit that it’s not entirely fine, but I think I’m doing fairly well. For what it’s worth she’s sending me somewhere new today rather than having me cooped up in the library or sleeping in bed. The Sanzu River! I look forward to it.”

“...” Wakasagihime was staring at him, hunched forward and still partly in the lake. No, actually—to be more accurate: she was glaring at him.

He spoke up. “What? What are you thinking? What’s on the fish princess’s mind?”

“What else is wrong with you.” Her voice was flat and without inflection. He answered:

“Nothing.”

“ _Really?_ Because it LOOKS like there’s a little _SOMETHING_. You’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

“That’s what you’ve observed? Princess, I practically live within the books of a dimly lit library.”

Wakasagihime responded to him quietly, “They remind me of a Magician’s eyes. Like, not a ‘human’ magician’s.”

“Hmmm...” Gen sounded through his nose, offering no response beyond that. Wakasagihime crouched into herself and asked him straight:

“Did you become a Magician already?”

“I can’t even fly yet; no.” He answered without any particular tone. He then added, while twisting up his face, “I don’t believe I’ve ever said I’ll be a full-blooded ‘Magician’, anyway. For one, I’ve only been here almost three months. For another, I don’t actually fully know what it means to _be_ one.”

“So why the Magician eyes?” Wakasagihime kept up.

Gen tossed his good hand dismissively, saying, “I don’t even know what you mean by that,” even though from being Patchouli’s apprentice, he absolutely did.

“Aw, Gen...” moaned his friend, her face cast in disappointment, “did you drink that Devil’s blood?”

“No!”

“What did he do...?” the mermaid asked herself, thinking aloud with a hand to her lips.

“Don’t try figuring something out,” he told her.

“Why won’t you just tell me, idiot!?”

He lifted his eyebrows at her, lowered them with his eyes askance, then grimaced with frustration. “Probably because it’s a big enough deal I’d rather just not think about it,” he finally said.

“Are you BECOMING a Magician?”

“No, no, I was just slightly corrupted by the baneful and vile will of a dead heretic priest in the form of some nigh demonic tome of the worst ancient Nordic magic.”

Wakasagihime had put her lips tight and her eyebrows down. Furthermore, she now had her hands and fingers before her like she didn’t know what to do with them. He wasn’t sure what this expression meant, but he decided to clarify:

“It’s temporary.”

“It’s been almost two weeks.”

“Trust me, I’ve looked worse.”

Wakasagihime accepted his words, but with obvious reluctance. After thinking to herself again for a while, she had a question:

“Goodness, a bad grimoire can _do_ that to you?” she asked while putting her arms down and looking to the sky.

“If it’s bad enough, yes,” he explained. “This experience has reminded me why magic is often called ‘black’.”

“What would you do if your transforming into a youkai is by some evil accident rather than your choice?”

Gen did not answer this question. Instead, he glowered at the youkai and let his shoulders drop. “Seriously, Princess,” he began, “why do you always speak of me turning like it’s some inevitability?”

She crossed her arms and lowered her chin into them, telling him: “Why is a human learning to become a magician from a youkai Magician?”

“Because he—”

“—’s fated to by a tiny vampire,” she finished, not looking at him. “Weren’t you only fated to become a student? Not a magician. _This_ is how you nearly get yourself killed. You’re so dumb, Gen...”

“It was partly coincidence,” he said, “Also the only two magicians I know otherwise are a puppeteer and a child, and I don’t like puppets.” He shrugged.

“I’m just saying—” Wakasagihime stretched out her arms onto the shore, lying on her breasts and still looking off to the side “—even if it’s early you should really be thinking about the difference between being human and being something else.”

“In your case of ‘something else’, Miss Princess,” Gen ventured, “isn’t it not much different from being human at all?”

“You’re right mostly, but I _will_ live longer than humans. Much longer, in fact.”

“The length of your life doesn’t make that much of a difference does it?”

“It’s an important change,” the Princess explained, “very, very important, Gen.”

“I’m still an ignorant human so I can’t see why.”

“Well, you’re going to the Sanzu River today... maybe you’ll figure something out.” Saying that, she began to swim away.

“Hey!” he shouted. “What are you doing!?”

She stopped for a moment and gave him a small speech from over her shoulder—

“What changes between man and malignant entity, what difference there is between a life as long as horizon’s reach verse a life as momentary as a fly’s; what expectations there are of both and all four are things you should be thinking about, because they’re many things and the last thing you want is to suddenly contend unready with them and meet some terrible end or consequence.”

He thought, _... It’s supposed to be “versus” not “verse”._

Wakasagihime gave him a single wave/salute saying, “Don’t meet the Yama with your pants down, dear friend; she’ll only spank you.” Then, she dove underwater.

Gen looked at the mermaid’s gift in his hand for a moment before returning it to his robes and slumping down onto his rear. Tapping his knee at an even rhythm, he considered her words and thought they weren’t very much worth considering.

He had already decided he would not become a youkai. That was all. Any possible issue was thus nonexistent.

~~

* * *

Anchor: C7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1573353)

* * *

[ ♫: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kyrh9YclT3w&t=2313](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kyrh9YclT3w&t=2313) ]  
[Full Moon Samba & なんてことない日 - TOHO BOSSA NOVA 2 (ShibayanRecords)]

“That Kazami Yuuka is certainly merciful in strange ways,” his Master observed while they sat at breakfast in the library.

“Why! Could you mean how she spared my dominant hand?” Gen asked, wagging a spoon of porridge for indication.

“My! Yes, that’s what I mean,” Patchouli answered, wagging a teaspoon.

“So just to confirm, she wasn’t trying to kill me when we fought?”

“It seems unlikely,” his Master said while dropping sugar into her tea. Stirring the drink, she offered this thought: “However had you not acted so rashly when you did, there is a fair chance you would have wound up burned at Muenzuka.”

“But...” he started, but then decided not to finish. He’d thought to confirm that his Master had fought for his life afterward, but if he was wrong he didn’t want to think about it, and if he was right he didn’t want her potentially embarrassed.

Patchouli moved on without noting his interjection. “The Norse magic you used from the Red Skin, or The Book of Power, is in theory normal, but in practice pretty disgusting.”

“The Rauðskinna has been crafted and spelled so that the caster can eschew conventions and ritual to quickly use dark magic, right?” he asked.

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Using the book like that, without proper preparation or at least sufficient spiritual power, forges a temporary contract with a youkai... or I suppose ‘demon’ would be the more appropriate nomenclature.”

Gen dropped his spoon. “What.”

“The warlock who wrote that book practiced Nordic magics, but was himself Christian. He sought to use Norse magic, which he considered the most wicked and powerful, to subdue Abrahamic Satan, the ultimate evil of Christianity. Along his path to doing so he subdued other demons, even capturing a minor, impish one to skin it and provide the book its distinctive binding.”

He was often amazed at what his Master could bring up while they ate; perhaps removing her need for food also made her immune to nausea while consuming it. Ignoring that, he was still deeply perturbed by her revelations at the table.

“Gottskálk grimmi Nikulásson. He was a disreputable magician, but proficient far beyond his time. He had access to some texts and also some knowledge that would centuries after his passing be compiled into the Lemegeton, or the Lesser Key of Solomon: a grimoire consisting of five books on various spells, most notably detailing how to summon and control the demons King Solomon subdued.”

“Who?”

“A legendary wise man that was real rather than legend, at least mostly. Anyway, good Nikulásson summoned one of the seventy-two demons Solomon had captured, punished, and branded, upon which he subjugated them with his Norse magic. Thus he tied the demon Paimon to his own grimoire, and you contracted with Paimon briefly to call forth powers you would otherwise be unable to. Essentially when bid, Paimon will swiftly prepare any things needed for the spell invoked and allow you to use them, however in exchange he consumes first your spirit as standard payment, but then your body if your spirit is lacking. This, at the consumption of form, is when you ‘sign’ the contract. If you’d been any weaker when you invoked ‘Twisted Forest’, he’d have given you the spell and killed you for its use. Without hard feelings, of course; he only ever does as he is ordered.”

Gen kept silent in the wake of this information. He had a number of questions, starting with: “So...” and he paused to pick back up his spoon, “... so, I’ve been connected to this ‘Paimon’?”

“You’ve _been_. Not anymore. Funny thing about the grimoire: as Nikulásson chained Paimon, if he ever used it without ritual he actually avoided any physical payment and was just given what he needed. Honestly he must have been quite frightening to contend with while he was alive. Pity he died before chaining Satan as well.” His Master popped some teacake into her mouth, closing her eyes and chewing sweetly. Quite adorable given the current subject matter, he thought.

Gen absorbed this, and then leaned forward while properly putting his spoon back down. He put his head in his hand and asked his Master: “... Did I screw up really badly back there?”

Patchouli continued eating simply and without a care while she answered him. “What should concern you most is the most basic thing, Gen: what I warn you about whenever I set you to sorting books. You read spells from a forbidden tome, and so were subjected to inhuman changes. They were only for a little while for now, but if you continue to do that your changes will be permanent.”

He sighed long, sat back up and retrieved his spoon once more. He figured enough with reacting, breakfast’s intended temperatures wouldn’t wait for his dramatics. While properly finishing his food, he addressed his Master in a formal tone: “Master Patchouli: I know you warn me about this often, but I’m afraid you’re being too vague for this dumb human you teach. What is bad about becoming a youkai through influence rather than direct action, and what bad is there in becoming a youkai in the first place?”

Patchouli was done eating now. She set her plates and cup aside and rested her elbows on the table, hands vaguely together in front of her face. “I’ll only answer your first question,” she stated. “The simplest way of putting it is that transformation through a ‘fall’, becoming a monster by gazing into the abyss as it were, makes you pathetic. I don’t mean that to be insulting, I mean that objectively. You become something like a preta from Hindu lore. Do you know about pretas, Gen?”

“I do not know about pretas.”

“Pretas are human failures. Having died at the end of a life full of corruption, greed, foolishness, and lies to all including themselves, they are reincarnated as pathetic monsters obsessed with one particular and often ironic hunger they will never be able to sate. And indeed, there is no better word to describe these creatures than pathetic. How they attempt to assuage their hunger is often... not tasteful.” Patchouli mumbled something and pointed toward a shelf in the library. A book spine began to sparkle and glow there. “Read that while you travel to Sanzu River today. Don’t lose it.”

“I won’t. What’s in it?” he questioned, finishing off his own meal and beginning to set aside his dishes.

“It’s a bestiary of Hindu beings. Read up on pretas and engender some more fear into yourself.” The magician looked her student in his eyes and gave him this warning: “If you tamper in the forbidden arts any more than you already have, you will become a creature possessed in its yearning for dark lore, and I will have to have the Shrine Maiden exterminate you. That will be the end.”

“Can’t let that happen,” he said.

“No,” Patchouli agreed. She stood and Sakuya took away their plates and all faster than they could see. “Come to me now,” his Master commanded. “I should get you ready for your journey, though you don’t need much this time.”

Gen stood as well. “Master Patchouli?” he asked. “Can’t you let me try my best on my own without your close guidance? I haven’t mentioned it, but I feel awfully spoiled.”

“This is not close guidance, Gen; don’t be mistaken.” Patchouli lifted her hand above herself as Gen approached her. When he was close, she rested it on his head. “I do very little for you. I assign, and you perform admirably. As far as students go, you are one I could call ideal. Now stay still like a good boy and let me equip you.”

He sighed through his nose. “Yessir, you’ve got it.”

And so, she got her boy ready to visit the place where souls passed on.

~~

* * *

Anchor: D7

  
[[1]](https://www.sapphirevalleyrentals.com/).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2278418)

* * *

[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=6Hfs5a7_9aI> ]  
[幾年月 – 悠久フォークロア - eternity folklore- (AQUA STYLE)]

“The fairy was right...”

Itou Gen had stepped close to the mountain near the lake (the so-called “Youkai Mountain”) and now in a clearing at its foot gazed upon it in its entirety from below, all while suppressing his wanderlust.

Autumn lived in abundance on this mountain, and the warm fire colors of the season spreading over its many trees evoked unbridled natural majesty. Gods, did he want to walk one of its trails. But, he relented. He forced his head down, and carefully made his way around the mountain, on the side of it facing the Forest of Magic, intending to find the Road of Liminality where humans, youkai, and the dead all gathered in relaxation. Again, as Master Patchouli had guaranteed, it was one of Gensokyo’s few utterly peaceful and safe places.

He had his attention still on the mountain, though. He would always find himself staring again and again, admiring how light wildly dashed through branches, how leaves kicked up and about joyously, how there were streams and waterfalls sometimes powerfully, sometimes gently, and always gorgeously running downward. He would sometimes stop his progress to watch birds flit through it all, or little land animals climbing and resting. Distant, he could even spot what must be fantastic beings traveling in leaps, bounds, and flights ascent and descending. Knowing he had little to be wary of so long as he didn’t try to go onto the mountain proper, it was the first time he was truly enraptured by Gensokyo’s unreal beauty.

He had a book in his hand all this while, and while he enjoyed being studious his attraction to these sights and paths and not-paths but walls of splendid, untampered golden-red flora was winning out over his thirst for knowledge.

“... No, no, I really need to read this,” he said under his breath, firmly, after he had stopped to watch a waterfall cast faint rainbows and produce endless, refreshing vapors as it collided with the boulders and thin river underneath it. The book was another assignment, after all. Patchouli would naturally quiz him on what he was meant to read once he returned. So, he walked and read.

... But honestly, what splendor that waterfall held. He returned to it and found himself a spot: one with a large rock to sit on beside a shielding-, large and old oak. The tome, like all from the library, was warded with magic—but just in case, he wanted to make sure the book would not be damaged in any way. He put himself behind the oak, easily becoming tranquil to the sounds all around him, and beginning to wear a genial face whilst he read of those repugnant creatures known as pretas.

Brook, babbling...  
Crows, cawing...  
Wind, whirling...  
Deer, dancing... galloping...

Falls... crashing...

He stretched one leg out and bent the other. His eyes grew heavy, and soon he was asleep—without a single care in the world.

~~

He heard something. Or, it was that he was hearing _someone_.

And for someone trying to keep quiet, this person seemed to have too-loud a whisper. He heard:

“He’s... definitely a magician right? Magician...! I can... Huh? What’s that book he was reading? Should I... I... I’ll check it out, quick...”

And, footsteps...

“... Hm! ... What? ... E-Ehh..? What language is that...? ... Grr... Magicians, so annoying...!”

He frowned and twitched his nose.

“Waugh! Uh—hide! Hide in the—! River!? What’s with the... It’s so shallow, what—wait, wait, where is thiiis...?”

The sound of... paper?

Gen opened his eyes a crack.

He’d been sleeping mostly pleasantly, but he had the vague recollection of an awful dream about not listening to his Master and becoming a preta, or whatever ghoulish thing he’d become if he tampered with forces beyond him more than he ought. Yeah... if he ever encountered a tome of that sort on his own again, no matter what he would _refuse_ to use it. It had been a truly sickening dream.

Now he looked at a kappa with short, straight, dark hair and a map in her hands, fumbling with it over what seemed to be a clipboard. He knew it was a kappa because of how she dressed: they apparently all wore the same many-pocketed aqua raincoat/dress hybrid with matching rain boots, and each donned a green cap with a ghost-like white symbol on the front. They also often had large backpacks, and this one most definitely had just that: it almost dwarfed her own body with its size.

He understood that, as an outsider, he should be afraid of kappa. They were almost entirely harmless to those of the human village, but had no problem dragging other humans into rivers, drowning them, and extracting their souls in a most deplorable method. It was worth mentioning: here in Gensokyo they were, all, universally small and cute, and this was of course unlike how he remembered their depictions in the Outside World. Nevertheless, he knew: they should always be considered dangerous.

But his fear had yet to kick in from sleep, and this kappa was such a mess he was finding it hard to possess concern. For one thing she was positively _soaked_ and looked by her face and posture and gesticulation inexorably flustered.

“GAAAHH!! THE MAP!! THE MAP IS...!”

She was wailing, because in her brilliance she had been holding this paper map with wet fingers and the consequences were immediate.

“Oh god! Oh god, I’m doomed!” She had her hands on her head now, having let the clipboard and ruined map fall into the rocks at her feet. _They live in water... don’t they laminate or enchant their papers to keep them dry?_ he wondered. She tugged at her hat and groaned. “This is the worst! I’m just the worst... the kappa to ever live...! Aaaah... Oh man, god, why does this always happen...!? Whyyyy...”

 _Goodness_ , Gen thought as he woke up in earnest and his vision cleared, _her voice is breaking up_.

She began to cry.

“I’m never gonna amount to anything!”

The kappa was on her hands and knees now, bawling openly.

“...” Gen had nothing to say. He decided...

[] _Subdue this youkai before she notices you’re awake._

[] _Escape while she’s distracted._

[] _... Take a risk and console her. She doesn’t know you’re not a youkai, yet._

<>

[X] _... Take a risk and console her. She doesn’t know you’re not a youkai, yet_.

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Anchor: E7

  
[[1]](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/29750037)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4MTK8C6d5b8> ]  
[Vivi’s Theme - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

As quietly as he could, Gen closed the Hindu bestiary and returned it to the assortment of tomes on his waist. He stood, brushing himself off briefly before realizing he could whisper away any grass and dirt on his person. He did so, and redid the clothes-maintaining enchantment which his Master had placed on it. All this while the kappa was cursing herself and weeping. Gen cleared his throat, then hailed her:

“Little kappa, what’s gone wrong?”

“GUAAHH!!” she shrieked, picking up her head. She was facing the river, and when Gen spoke she turned to look at him, fell onto her rear, and put a hand up.

“AAAAHH!! UHH!!”

“Do you know Japanese?”

“TH-TH-TH—”

“What.”

“Pardon me, Lord Youkai! I didn’t do a thing with any of your magical tomes! I’m just a foolish kappa who fell d-down the... the river—hey! Did you... Did you hear about the new rules!? Please don’t hurt me! It’s against the law now!”

“Huh...”

“THE SHRINE MAIDEN AND LADY YUKARI!! THEY MADE THE NEW RULES!!”

“...”

His mouth, closed, squirmed as if he were being tickled.

He thought to tease her.

“Rules? What rules?”

Her face went pale, her jaw dropped, and she uttered: “Gaaa—n!”

Gen tightened his mouth, not expecting someone to actually do that sound effect from anime and manga in reality. Laughter threatened escape.

The kappa, not noticing this, scrambled onto her knees in as formal a posture as she could with tears streaming down her face and otherwise being entirely in a panic. She raised her hands and began to explain what she meant, talking fast, “Lord Youkai, it’s perfectly under _stand_ able that you haven’t heard about the new rules, which are called ‘Spell Card Rules’! They have not been in place even half a year, and not all have realized their mandate across Gensokyo but it’s simple really if you’ll allow me to explain?”

He blinked.

“No.”

She withdrew, bellowing: “GAGAAA—N!!”

He clenched his teeth.

“Nevermind. Please explain,” he managed to say.

“THANK YOU!” she cried, her mood immediately shifting. She next clapped her hands and said: “The simplest way to put it is—iiiis,” she looked askance for a moment before continuing, opening her hands playfully and saying brightly, “we don’t fight anymore! Okay? No fighting!”

“Okay, I see.”

She didn’t seem to expect this answer, leaning forward and blinking in confusion, “Eh? You see?”

“I understand.”

“You do!? I mean, of course you do!” she cried with practiced humor. Then she coughed and, smiling, wiped at her face with the backs of her hands. “Yeah! Can’t mess with the Shrine Maiden or Lady Yukari, right! Thank you for being so understanding...”

She stopped.

Her lips quivered.

And water ran down her face again while she warbled on with her speech.

“R-Really, thank you so m-much...”

Gen was fairly surprised by all this. He’d read that the kappa were cowardly, but this was just impressive. Then again, apparently they were at their most threatening when in a proper river, or at least beside one. Here, next to a stream, this kappa must have felt at the worst disadvantage. Power struggles and fighting were also allegedly common to the Mountain, though much worse before the new rules were enacted... He was thankful the youkai taint from using the Rauðskinna had yet to completely leave him. Most youkai could otherwise tell he was fully human in an instant. Then again most youkai didn’t sport broken limbs... this kappa was indeed quite foolish, as she’d said. He honestly just felt bad for her.

Deciding to cease his teasing, he put his hand on his hip and addressed her again. “Calm down. I already knew about the rules and I had no intention of fighting you.”

She flinched, sniffling. She looked him in his eyes. “You knew about the rules?” she hesitatingly asked.

Frowning, he realized that saying that had been a mistake. Nonetheless, he answered, “... Yes.”

“Y-You knew I was lying...?” She began. Her eyes were shimmering again...

Gen shut his eyes and pressed his hand into his face as she begged him not to fight her, and that she was lousy at danmaku anyway, and that she didn’t taste any good. He sighed and then spoke again, asking, “... What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Sorry.” She suddenly stopped her waterworks. He wondered if kappas’ manipulation of that element made that possible. The youkai sniffed once and kept talking, “My life has been really terrible for a while now. I thought it might get better with the new rules but I really am bad at danmaku play and I lose all the time. The others are also just better at everything than I am. They can sell better and stuff. I’m basically just a loser kappa. That’s me: dud kappa.”

“A friend of mine said you kappa have been getting aggressive in the lake again recently,” he mentioned. “Is that the source of your problems?”

Her gaze was distant and aimed at the ground as she said, “There’s an incalculable number of sources. I am the primary source.”

Kappa in Gensokyo seemed to be interesting from what he knew. They operated as a society without any leaders, and while they always kept together as a race and civilization, they functioned under a kind of meritocracy. They were, oddly enough, a technological race and supposedly had inventions and scientific advancement far beyond how stuck in the past Gensokyo otherwise was. The kappa that were the best at inventing things, that were the best at conning others, that were the best at brokering deals, and those that were the best at management, took things _similar_ to leader roles in their society... but it was never anything official. It was supposedly a chaotic ball of turtle-shelled (or rather, “backpacked”) creatures rolling all around underwater and forcing a way to that horizon known as “progress”. From that ball had tumbled this unfortunate, dark-haired kappa.

“I like to be optimistic;” Gen told her with a finger resting on his lips, “I think everyone has some talent they can focus, or at least a love they can temper into skill. What do you love, madam?”

The kappa smiled meekly, pressing her hands into her lap. “I think I’m good at inventions,” she admitted, “but since I can’t explain them too well, it’s hard to get the others to test them. I have to test them myself... so I ended up in the river and I fell.”

He looked up at the waterfall and asked, “Your latest invention sent you down here?”

“Y-Yeah...”

 _Was it a catapult?_ he wondered.

“Well...” Gen began, stepping over to the kappa and offering her his hand, “... if you believe that you’re an erudite inventor: invent, and let your inventions speak for you.”

“It’s not that easy...” the kappa said. Though she was looking miserable, she nonetheless took his hand and let him help her to her feet. Still holding his hand, she readjusted her cap and sniffed again. She looked up at him—rather far up, as she was quite a few heads below him in height. “Umm... I’m Kawaiwaya Aomu... sorry,” she apologized for the difficulty of her name’s pronunciation. “Really, thanks for being nice to me. I hope it’s okay that I’m introducing myself.”

“Certainly,” he smirked as her replied. There, he decided to introduce himself as well: “The name’s Itou Gen.”

Aomu squeezed his hand a bit and looked over it closely. She pouted and mumbled, “Hrm... Mister Gen, your youkai aura is pretty faint.”

“It’s because I’m very nice.”

With this said, he smiled perfectly.

“You are very nice...!” Aomu agreed, showing him a glowing face and shaking his hand firmly. “Uhh...” she rumbled. Still not letting go his hand, she seemed to be wondering something as her eyes wandered. In a little under a minute, she locked eyes with him once again and seemed to talk in a deliberate, remembered tone – after all, she evidently found it difficult to keep eye contact, and her voice was shaking somewhat – “It’s, uh, not really normal prac... tice but, y’know, I was thinking I could pay you? And you could test an invention for me? It won’t hurt your broken arm at all, I can promise you that. It’s, uh, kappa honor. We may lie, but not in business. I mean, mostly. I mean, we don’t want to lie. That’s... I mean that, is what I mean.”

The day was still young and this kappa wasn’t very threatening... but thinking back to his ordeal with Yuuka he wasn’t sure about taking chances any further than this. Well, regardless he’d have to demand that they not climb Youkai Mountain at all—if he agreed he could easily lie about that. Having Gensokyo currency was an appealing prospect... the Road of Liminality was lined with stands, and furthermore he just plain wanted money – he felt very uncomfortable without any, and he didn’t want to proposition Scarlet Devil Mansion for an allowance or pay after they gave him a room, an occupation, food, power: basically, his life. But really... even if he knew that all youkai weren’t going to threaten his mortality... he was worried about what might happen if Aomu found out his outsider status. Rather, he knew what would happen: she would surely drag and drown him within some current, bend his corpse over, and pluck out his shirikodama in an effort to advance her standing in kappa society. Or, even, just to sate her curiosity and hunger.

He didn’t want to think of her that way, but it was probably good to be wary.

 _Well..._ he thought, looking into the sky, _what to do?_

[] Accept her offer.

[] Politely decline.

<>

[X] Accept her offer.

_Well, I finished Master Patchouli’s reading assignment, and I’d wager it’s about eleven in the morning right now... This is probably fine._

_She seems harmless._

He met her eyes again.

“Alright,” he said, “consider it a deal.”

Again her face lit up. “Wonderful!” she breathed, and she shook his hand again. “Well, let’s get started immediately! Follow me!” She pointed across the stream at her side, let him go, and began to stomp through it gleefully. He followed her while hopping over exposed stones.

“... Why don’t you just float across, Mister Gen?” Aomu asked him as he carefully balanced on a rock. He answered smoothly:

“It’s hard to concentrate on flight with my arm like this,” he lied.

“Oh, I s—! Seee... ee... Uah... ah! My map!” after going through a series of expressions the kappa ended on “shock” and dashed back to the shore to grab up her soaked map. She held it before her and bared her teeth in a despairing frown, quivering with emotion. She was about to cry again.

“...” Observing her in silence, Gen hopped back to shore and looked over her shoulder.

He couldn’t restore the map, at least perfectly, without it having an enchantment on it prior to being ruined. But, destroyed paper was something his Master had experience with attempting to recover. There were a few techniques...

He fished around in the pockets of his robe for a bottle of ink.

“Aomu, find a relatively dry rock and place the map over it, face up,” he directed.

The kappa looked at him, and then the ink, and then did as she was told: finding a flat boulder near the oak tree and keeping the map in place with a stone at each corner.

“Now open this, please,” he requested, holding out his ink. While she went about opening it up he whispered a spell for air and gathered a ball of spiraling wind into his hand. He breathed in, spoke another spell, and breathed out, using a little spirit to forge “warmth” and blend it into the swirl. He crouched before the map, and began to dry it. It was a bit too chilly to rely on only sunlight, he figured.

When his air had run out he dragged his palm over the paper and confirmed that it was indeed dry. Then, he carefully traced what faded lines he could still see with his fingers spread as he whispered; each digit tracing its own separate line. He made sure to “connect” everything possible in his tracing, and when he was done, he spoke an old word for “ink” while looking at the bottle Aomu held. The black liquid within was extracted out into the air, and as he pulled back his hand it wove into the paper, creating a facsimile of what the map should have looked like prior to its water damage.

He blew on it a few times, huffed, and took away the stones holding it down. There he said, “Done, probably.”

Aomu plugged up the ink bottle and squatted down to see the map. She scanned it, gaining a more and more severe face while she did. She reached for it, paused and – seeing that the ink was no longer – wet lifted it up again. She returned his ink and continued to examine the map. She looked around, looked back at the map, looked around again, and back again. Finally, she folded it up and put it away, fishing around in the same pocket she’d put it in until she’d found something. She pulled that something out and presented it to Gen: money.

“Here,” she said, “payment for services. You’re a lifesaver, Mister Gen.”

They were a handful of coins. He wondered if she’d just pulled a random amount from her pocket and given that, and so he asked.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head, “I just know how to feel for the denominations well... I can do that much... Yeah. That’s two thousand four hundred en. It’s greater than the cost of the map. Honest.”

 _Two thousand... is it about the same as yen? It sounds like it..._ He pocketed the coinage. “I’ll take it,” he said, “but I meant to do that for free.”

The kappa shook her head, putting both hands on her hips. “I can’t let the reputation of the kappa go down the toilet like that. We’re a business-like race. Maybe we’re not known for being the most trustworthy... but we keep business going by proving we’re willing to conduct it. Properly.”

Gen nodded. He’d take her word for it. Still, he had to ask: “Couldn’t you have charmed that paper or laminated it before going out?”

“I, uh, forgot,” she said, and quickly she shouted— “NOW!” with a finger raised for emphasis. “We were going the wrong way! THAT way!” And now she pointed in the opposite direction from where they’d been headed. Convenient. This would keep him on his way to the Road of Liminality.

“Another thing though...” he began to mention before she could march ahead, “I ended up annoying one of the yamanba up on the mountain recently... I’d rather just leave her alone and not get caught up in trouble, so can we keep from climbing the mountain?”

“Ohh!!” Aomu was surprised, apparently. She even brought her mouth into an oval shape after hearing his request. After a moment, she closed her eyes and grinned saying: “Roger! We weren’t going to go up the mountain anyway, and besides, I’m a coward, too! I totally get it!”

 _Well... I guess I_ am _a coward, but... this much of one, these days?_

He smirked with defeat and a shake of his head before following the kappa around the great hill.

~~

* * *

Anchor: F7

  
[[1]](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/39882369)

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[ ♫: <https://files.catbox.moe/1zqa8f.mp3> ]  
[We are Thieves - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

They walked a fair way, Aomu checking her map periodically. He still often marveled at the scenery, but he didn’t abandon the path. Eventually, Aomu stopped in front of a strange, large, hole in the earth... something like a cave, but it didn’t seem natural. She moved to a pile of vines, grabbed at them, stomped her foot beside a rock wall near them, and wrenched them all away with all of her might. Doing this, she revealed that they were covering a sign. She adjusted her cap and allowed herself a complaint under her breath, muttering, “Dang fairies...”

The sign read thus:

**IT’S A KAPPA DEN**

**STAY AWAY!!!**

Aomu swept plant matter from her hands and glanced back at Gen. “Wait here, okay?” she said, and she marched into the hole a few steps before jumping ahead, falling, and eventually splashing into what he figured must be water.

After a few minutes, she returned, shaking liquid away from her face and off of her hands. She had a white box under her arm.

Gen decided to comment: “I’ve heard kappa all work together somewhere. Why do you have a den out here?”

He knew why, but wanted her answer.

The kappa deflated. “Mister Gen...” she spoke with a sigh, “you know why. I’m ashamed and being around the other kappa makes me all tense and crazy.”

If there was one thing he knew from all his reading on Gensokyo, it was that “the way of things” was an absolute. Any challenges to that were a risk to existence, or were squashed by the Shrine Maiden without mercy. He didn’t know kappa society from firsthand experience, but he knew from reading that their “way of things” was to act together, even if they couldn’t truly “organize”.

“You should really go back with them,” he said, “even if you’re ashamed. I haven’t really spoken with many kappas, but I know you like to stay together. While it might hurt to work among them, how is it for you to work apart?”

Aomu gripped her cap at its brim, trying and failing to hide her grimace. “Let me be proud of myself, first,” she said.

“Alright!” he answered with zeal, “Let us accomplish that! Show me your invention.”

“... Ah! Yeah!” She excitedly took the box under her arm into her hands, lifted it, then opened it beside her face. “Tadah~! It’s a... well, I was thinking, even we kappa can’t breathe underwater; we have lungs, not gills. Sooo, you seeee, thiiis, it... can... Think, of it this way: because we can hold our breath for hours, it’s hard to know just... how many... hours. You’re not a kappa.” Once more, she was depressed. This seemed to be a pattern.

The device in the box was a small, gray, squarish thing, a bit larger than his hand, with a screen and an attached mouthpiece on one end (and at least six other replacement mouthpieces surrounded the machine in its container). He guessed it was something for... what was the term? Spirometry. He definitely wasn’t expecting to see something like that in this land that time forgot—and what’s more in such a compact form. Machines used in pulmonary function testing were usually very large and had to be kept in a room.

“Can it work for other youkai and humans?” he asked. “I wouldn’t mind knowing how long I had to last underwater.”

Her mood flipped and she spoke loudly again, “Of course it does! For humans – since they can be pretty frail – it can also measure a bunch of other things related to breathing and pulmonary systems! Since you’re a magician, I can even tell you how sick you’ve gotten from your magical experiments!”

“So it measures lung capacity, and much else?”

“Yeah!”

“Cool...” he said, and he was honest; honestly impressed. He held his chin and thought over Aomu’s pitch. She seemed like she could explain well... as long as she didn’t start losing faith in herself. It really was likely just a matter of confidence.

He thought to grant her some.

“Well, alright; let me test it then,” he spoke brusquely. “I’d like to see how and if it works.”

Aomu beamed at him, set the box down, and took out the tiny machine. She examined its left side and moved a little switch there with a _click!_ before tapping on it in a few specific places, eyeballing the screen, and handing it to the magician.

“Alright” she said, “just put the piece here into your mouth and don’t block the hole or your throat with your tongue or anything. The way it works is it gathers moisture through the air in these vents at the back, then when you press this on the right side it shoots out vapor. There’s also a tone it plays though most creatures can’t hear it. It uses the tone and the water to measure your insides.”

“All of my insides?” he asked, holding the device now. “Including my stomach?”

The kappa huffed with pride. “I can really get into it if you want, but basically it ignores your stomach and anything else unnecessary,” she explained. “I could use it for stomach measurements, but that’s a byproduct of my research... I’m not sure about the possible applications.”

 _He_ wasn’t sure exactly how scientific this was, but he also wasn’t good at sciences, no matter how much his Master insisted science and magic were one and the same. He shrugged, and put the mouthpiece between his lips.

“Great, just press the button now and wait a few seconds,” she bid.

So, he did. Pressing an oval on its side with his thumb, he felt a thin cloud of water jet through him. He briefly felt like coughing, but just after felt soothed. Noting this, Aomu spoke again.

“Water in your lungs is bad even for kappa but only if it’s too much. This is like, like a humidifier is in your room, essentially,” she told him. “But, you probably can’t use this machine more than once in a while... for safety, just in case.” He nodded in agreement, and they waited a little while. Eventually, Aomu spoke up again. “Alright, I think you can take it out now. See?” she said. “The display should be on.”

He looked, and saw that it was. It had several number and letter pairs (he assumed the letters to be abbreviations) lined across it now. Beside every entry was the confirmation “OK”.

“Can I see?” asked the kappa. He handed it to her, and she looked at it for a while. She fiddled with the brim of her cap again, mumbling, “Hmmnnm... Yeah... that’s... fine for a human-like body, right? These values... hmm...”

She flipped the device over in her hand so the screen faced the ground and squinted. He recalled: while he’d held it, there was a rough sensation on his palm, scraping it lightly. Had something been engraved or embossed there? Sure enough, Aomu tapped at the side of her cap and a small monocle flipped out it from under the brim, clicking in place over her left eye. She peered through the glass and at the back of her invention, so he assumed the monocle was some sort of magnifying glass. She moved the monocle by hand to her other eye and changed over the sides of the machine in order to – it seemed – compare something. Slowly, she found a smile.

“Well, well!” she declared. “Assuming it isn’t just broken these are normal numbers for a healthy human or magician! Let’s see...” She pushed up her magnifying monocle and pressed a button he hadn’t noticed near the vapor-machine’s top. The thing whirred with noise and then, from below the vents at its “top”, a slip of paper was printed out. She quickly looked it over, shoved it in a pocket, and then happily chomped on the mouthpiece. Gen raised his eyebrows, and she pushed the button that jettisoned vapors.

She waited for new values to appear on the device’s screen, checked them, and found a wider smile. She shoved the machine toward Gen’s face, speaking enthusiastically. “Look!” she shouted. “It knows it’s not the right body type!”

He didn’t understand the values of course, but they were assuredly different from his. Now beside most lines were the symbols “??”. Some still said “OK”, and one said “XX”.

“It’s definitely different,” he said.

She took it from his face, looked at it, and then took back out the paper that she’d printed. She explained a little of it to him, “You’re pretty much totally average when it comes to your pulmonary system, Mister Gen. It’s hard to check that, but you can try finding me again if anything seems wrong with your breathing and we can check what it might be. For now: I guess you’re a natural born magician? You must not be experimenting too much with dangerous ingredients.” He made no comment. She continued, “What I can check easy is your air capacity. You should be able to last underwater for a minute and thirty seconds! Or, about that. So...”

Aomu crouched and put the device back in its box. When she stood up, she was passing her thumbs over each other, the rest of her fingers interlocked. She didn’t look into his eyes as she went on.

“To mostly prove it I need to... dunk your head underwater and time you.”

“Do it.” Gen spoke without hesitation.

If he was being honest he still didn’t entirely trust the kappa, but he had determined that she believed he was competent, confident, and together. She seemed honest, and if she was dishonest this was quite the setup for a single kill. Ordinarily, if a kappa wanted a human’s life and soul, they’d take a Venus flytrap principal: wait for the prey to get close and then swallow them. He couldn’t see it, but there was definitely a well of water in her den, so he had gotten close enough to be killed and she hadn’t taken the chance. The chance could be now... but he just didn’t see it. Therefore, he didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t give her a reason to think he had any cause for worry.

“Okay.” Aomu met his eyes again and nodded, putting a hand behind herself and reaching for the waters of her den. “Okay, breathe deep, okay? Thumb up when you’re ready and uh... make an ‘X’ with your arms when you’ve had enough.” She took a stopwatch out from one of her pockets.

He raised his thumb.

She nodded, and he realized he couldn’t presently make an “X” with his arms.

She drew her hand forward and with it came water flying from the dark hole. She splashed it into his face and manipulated it so it surrounded his entire head in a large, somewhat amorphous, mostly spherical shape. He simply accepted this, and held his breath.

Through the water, he heard her muffled voice. “I won’t tell you when we reach your reported limit,” she was saying.  
Just tell me when you’re done.

He waited.

He decided not to count time, only wait.

After a while, he blew air out his nose as his lungs grew weak and a bit pained. He put his right hand diagonal over his chest. She pulled back the water at once, throwing it over some grass.

He gasped for air and looked at Aomu, who was looking between the stop watch and the earlier slip of paper. Her face relaxed in deep relief and she said, “It’s perfect... only one second off, in a good way. You kept for one extra second.” She flicked her nose with her thumb, smirking, but also visibly shaking. “It’s really accurate...” she said “... of course, yeah.”

Wiping off and airing his head, he watched as Aomu put the paper and stopwatch back into her pockets, unbuttoning another and removing a shining metal cube with a number pad on its top and slot on what he assumed by orientation to be its front. She input a code which was followed by a beep, then she input some other numbers, and out came slips of paper money. Putting away the box, she next counted the bills, and in short order offered them to Gen.

“Ten thousand here,” she said, showing him, “four thousand here. Ten and four thousand en, for your services.” She pushed them closer to him, and he received the slips.

“Not bad...” he admitted, pocketing it with his coin cash.

“Don’t tell anyone I did this!” she warned, hand on hip and finger pointed up. “We kappa will get other youkai and humans to test things for us sometimes, but it’s almost never that one of us does this on our own! ‘Kay!?”

“Absolutely understood,” he confirmed. “Is our business concluded then?”

“It is!” she shouted with both hands in the air. “That was my most complicated device so far! I have to go test it with the other kappa! I can’t wait! This’ll be great for our kids, elderly, and ill! If the health stuff works, I mean! And I mean—it should!!”

 _Oh, she’s excited,_ Gen thought to himself, wearing a pleased look. He spoke next, “If you ever need me again, request me at Scarlet Devil Mansion.”

“That new mansion by the Lake, huh...” she mumbled. Then, she quickly and brightly replied, “Sure! Absolutely! You’re good people, Itou Gen! A real upstanding guy! You’re strong _and_ nice! I’m... I’m definitely your friend now, yeah!?” She still had her hands in the air while saying this all this, and she was grinning now, just a bit nervously.

“Yes, consider us friends, Aomu,” he told her. “I’m a man of magic, but science and magic are pretty much one and the same. Let’s rely on one another.” He offered his hand. She grabbed it with both of hers, standing on her heels and leaning toward him.

“Yes!” she chirped. “You’ve got one of the greatest kappa minds to rely on, and don’t you forget it!”

He smiled. “Never.”

“Were you headed somewhere!? I’ll guide you!”

“The Road of Liminality.”

Aomu nodded, shut her eyes, let go of his hands, and put hers on her hips, grinning at him again, but now so gladly that her nose became scrunched.

 _Well then_ , Gen thought, _good choice._

He bid her go ahead, and was thus swiftly led to his first destination.

~~

* * *

Anchor: G7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1125481)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=7d9yP3RT1Gs> ]  
[Ambigu – Poptrick (Poplica*)]

The Road of Liminality.

It lived up to its reputation.

Gen walked from the forested mountain base and onto a wide path beneath boundless skies. At once, he recognized that this was a festival... or rather, it certainly looked like one. After Aomu wished him farewell, he stood at the start of the road and simply took it all in. Lining it entirely were food, game, and souvenir stands. There were humans absolutely everywhere. Youkai, too, were in abundance, and as his Master had told him they weren’t attempting to harm or frighten any of the humans there. Mostly, though, this place was crowded with spirits: little white orbs of the dead with wispy tails, flying through the air and in-between visitors or, seemingly, participating in the festivities... were they _buying_ things? Well, he had heard the dead had some money... It was something about how much they were buried with, or what their families had spent, or something like that.

He recalled that many of the visitors were supposedly ghosts. His first experience in Gensokyo had been contending with a murderous ghost, but allegedly these here would all be too preoccupied to care about envying the living. It was eerie to think about there being so many thinking dead in one place... but it was not as overwhelming as the sight in the distance. _That_ commanded his attention.

“S’that... Heaven?” he whispered to himself as he stared into the far-off view.

At what must’ve been the end of the road, and encompassing all the horizon, was a yellowy and luminescent haze – almost like a curtain woven of souls – waving only a little as the spirits traveling down the road passed through on through it—most of the spirits, at least. He could tell that no wind passed out or into it, but instead a sense of _tranquility_ reached out from _it_ all the way to him, here. It appeared to be an endless thing: a standing plane that told him this was where the current world stopped. It was flat, impassive, ambivalence. In a while, he understood that this was not Heaven, but one of a person’s final stops before they could find a next world. It was assuredly the way to Sanzu River, and seeing it only at a distance – one so far he could not even see waters – he felt alive in the sense that he knew some day he would die.

He suddenly went cold and his heart thumped. That was it: he was shaken by his mortality. His thoughts began to race with ambitions, memories, and regrets, and the idea of everything vanishing. It was something that happened from time to time since he’d entered his twenties, and he knew that it was common, but nonetheless he always absolutely hated the idea that one day it would all end. He would end, and that would be it. Even if he re-entered the wheel of life, “he” would disappear and be rewoven into something else, unaware he had ever lived before at all.

Gen held his head and shut his eyes, attempting to ignore these bleak thoughts. What came to mind, then, was the very real possibility he had of achieving immortality... and he opened his eyes, staring at his feet.

His question was: did he have enough attachment to life to do something so heinous as to deny nature and remove himself from the cycle? To become inhuman, and whatever it fully meant to do so? He pulled away his hand to gaze at the patterns on his fingers: those pattern which belonged only to him, and to this body, and those which would one day either decay under earth or be turned black and obscure in a furnace’s indiscriminate flames... or, worse: become a mere part of a pile of gray ash among a thousand other colorless piles at that execrable Muenzuka.

He exchanged one living crisis for another and pressed his nails into the thick of his palm until he felt the skin would break, shaking his head as he did so.

He closed his eyes again and breathed out long before looking up into the sky and thinking to himself: _Wakasagihime was right: I have a lot to think about._

He took a short breath and waved the stinging pain out his right hand, bouncing on his toes a few times and rotating his neck. He next put his chin in place within his hand and pushed it right, cracking nitrogen out his tendons. He put his fist against his jaw to do to same with his joints there, and after flexed his fingers a few times.

“Alright...” he whispered, “enough of that. Let’s get going.”

There, he began walking down the road.

“Hey, hey!” called someone from a stand. “You there, fellow! A living sort, are you? Yes, you! Have some soul candy and reflect on your life! It’s precious... the candy, that is!”

 _What a line..._ he thought as he looked to his side to see a person who he knew was dead winking and pointing at him. He wasn’t sure from where these ghost proprietors were recruited, but he _had_ read that they were ghosts. He walked toward the candy seller, looking over the prices of these blue and white, wisp-bearing confectionaries. They seemed to be hard candies. While thinking about buying some pieces, his face contorted in a blend of apprehension and faint disgust.

“‘Soul’ candy, right?” he confirmed. “Are they made with actual souls?”

“Made to look like souls.”

“Made to look like souls... Well, alright,” he said with a shrug. “If that’s legitimate then I’ll take four.”

“Thanks, sir; it’s very legitimate,” said the seller with a smile missing teeth. Grabbing a pair of tongs, he carried four candies into a paper bag and gave it to Gen once he had paid.

Gen would wait until he could meet someone trustworthy to confirm if these had souls in them, then he’d try one and give the rest to Master Patchouli.

When he left the stand he was courted by another which advertised goldfish catching... or rather, specifically _departed_ , _ethereal_ goldish catching. The poi he had to use was allegedly, to quote, “special”, but it simply looked like any other thing of plastic surrounding a circle of paper, and all held with a simple handle. He attempted to scoop a fish up, it worked (but was awkward, unable to hold a bowl at the ready in his free hand), and he wondered what it was about this goldfish that made it a ghost... fish. Another question for someone else. If it was a truly a ghost, perhaps he could study it.

After being hailed by a merchant selling wards against evil spirits, and then coming across a woman making phantom taiyaki, he realized that there was a brazen theme to what was sold and presented on the Road of Liminality... but it was not one that he minded.

He had candy, a dead fish, and a spirit ward now (he’d decided against the taiyaki). He hadn’t spent or gotten much, but given the tourism angle of the place, he thought that this was enough. Still, he found some interest in a gambling sort of game. It wasn’t that he wanted to gamble; he rather wanted to test some magic and determine if there were any cheats here as he suspected. Thus he approached a rope lottery, strings and prizes dangling from the top of the game’s stand. Senbonhiki was simple enough to rig: attach strings to poor prizes, dangle great prizes with no strings to get them. In this case there looked to be a vintage koban from the Tokugawa era spinning and glinting gold over the stand runner’s head. Another kind of coin... at this point, Gen was wondering if he might seem a little greedy.

Prior to approaching this stand he had penned a glyph into a notebook on his belt for a somewhat complex spell’s framework. He whispered the invocation for it while the ghost before him put away the coins he’d paid to play. When he finished whispering, the magic circle he had written shined dimly, the book bearing it opening to that page (though Gen kept it hidden behind his coat). Next, winds came down and rode through the lottery strings, wrapping around them, and tugging every one at once. He had no real cause for suspicion of this stand in particular, but he figured he might be able to get away with this if he was wrong. As every prize but the old coin came tumbling down, but no strings were left to pull for it, he saw that he’d been correct.

“What a strange wind,” the magician commented. He then made to look at the koban, pointing at it and saying: “Well _that’s_ odd. Why hasn’t that fallen, and where’s the string?”

The stand operator, surprisingly enough, leapt at him after this, grudge burning furious in his sunken eyes. Gen looked at the dead man with eyebrows raised, and leaned back slightly, having genuinely not expected this outcome. Before the ghost could throttle the careless human, a flaming hand grabbed the top of his head, large enough that its fingers gripped eyelids. Another flew out and pulled the ghost’s cheek from its inside, and more and more grabbed his arms, back, legs, chest, throat, hair—

He was suddenly engulfed in fire, and then suddenly gone.

Gen blinked once, and then rapidly, and saw behind the stand a gorgeous young girl with pitch black hair (cropped) and eyes (cold), a white and old, traditional uniform, and a small square hat on her head, also void of color. She held beside her like a staff a scythe that was far taller than her. She bowed deeply to Gen, and made an announcement as she was bent in what turned out to be a terribly strange voice.

“Hello. I am Houkou no Kien, a shinigami and receptionist to Hell. On behalf of the Ministry of Right and Wrong, I wish to take this opportunity to apologize for the inconvenience and distress you have suffered. Please report any fraudulence that you see here, and any violent behavior. Thank you, and please continue to enjoy your time on the Road.”

She sounded uncomfortably, almost impossibly stiff and as if she were very far away. Furthermore, rather than speaking to him, it was as if she was speaking to his heart. Her voice was so outlandish he forgot to comment on her supposed name, which sounded absurd and ridiculous (if it was indeed written with the kanji for “direction” and “bizarre”). Before he could remember and bring this up, she stood straight again, looked to her feet, and then looked at the hanging old coin above her head. She reached for it, and in a startlingly vicious motion tore it from its rope, tearing the white line into small threads by her act. She presented Gen the coin.

“Please take this for your trouble,” she said.

 _Is she... actually_ there _?_ Gen thought to himself while looking at her hand. He went for his arguably ill-gotten “prize”, and as soon as he held it her hand disappeared. He looked up and saw the stand ablaze, but only for a second. After the second passed, a stand for phantom-refrigerated ice cream took its place, and had an entirely new runner.

Gripping the koban now, he rubbed his thumb over it and thought, _What the hell? Was that really a shinigami? Did she reap that ghost’s soul?_

“Excuse me, sir.”

A lightly husky, but mostly young and feminine voice came from behind him, and its carrier touched him on his shoulder. Gen pocketed his new old money and turned to see a girl probably no older than would place her in junior high, and when he saw her his stare went severe.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the girl continued in a serious tone, “are you, perhaps, a magician youkai?”

The girl had white and pristine hair, cut very evenly short and mostly set straight. He found her face to be too adorable, with small and slight features beneath wide and truthful eyes that resembled beryl in both color and clarity. She had a stern posture, and it seemed to be her posture alone that evoked solidity in her everything. She stood like she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever be moved, and her outfit which he thought might look fresh or even cute on most other girls looked on her like a powerful and staid uniform. It was a mostly green thing: green vest and dress (forest-like), white pocket at the breast and white buttons down the center. The vest had a ghostly symbol like that on a kappa’s hat over her heart, also... though the direction was different, and there were a few more along the hem of her skirt. She had a clean white undershirt with a black bow at the collar that matched the one tied in her hair... but there were four particular things about her more notable than all this:

Firstly, there was a phantom, large and transparent, swimming in the air close around her and not leaving her side for a moment. Two other things were her swords: she kept two black sheaths on her person, one short and tied to the back of her waist—another slung from her shoulder down behind her and that seemed to almost match her size. This sheath was marked on the end with two red-bordered seals, and decorated with a tied flower that looked as though it didn’t belong in this autumn air, yet was nonetheless vibrant and alive. The blade’s handle bore the image of falling cherry blossoms and was wrapped with string. At the top of it, a thick plume of white waved in the breeze.

Lastly, the most significant thing Gen noted was this:

 _What on Earth?_ he thought to himself. _Why is this girl so beautiful?_

There were many maidens in Gensokyo that the magician’s apprentice could easily admit were beautiful. Even the shinigami who he’d seen just before was someone he could say was gorgeous. In fact, nearly all maidens in Gensokyo seemed to be, to the extent that a woman he might call homely was only so here by comparison, and was otherwise obviously good-looking. He afforded this to it being a land of fantasy... but at any rate, mostly his heart and passions were never fully stirred by the women here. He thought such fancies would only be dangerous sidetracks while trying to survive from day to day. Even his becoming-dear and wistfully sublime Master Patchouli who could blush his cheeks by merely touching his head was not seen womanly to the boy, but instead almost motherly in fact.

So Gen wondered: why _her?_

This was a new sensation. Irritating. Distracting. He pinched his nose bridge, eyes fiercely shut. He wanted to keep glancing at her, as though he were fascinated. He held his mouth in a thin, taut frown.

He needed to redirect. This would be best.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “what was that?”

“Oh, um, oh,” the girl stammered.

 _God,_ he thought, pulling his head right, _damn it. How horribly cute. Absurdly cute. Shit._

“I was asking if you might be a youkai magician?”

“What’s it to you?” he fired.

And she returned, “Oh, sorry.”

_Shit._

She spoke shortly and fired out her words with confidence of self, but none in speech. It was a bizarre type of talking only someone still growing and with much to learn could achieve. He wanted to grip at his chest.

“I should explain first,” she said. “I’m just a normal half-human, half-phantom, who has come here to the Road of Liminality from the Netherworld. Ah, and I’m a gardener.”

“‘Half-phantom’...” Gen repeated while taking his hand a bit from his face and staring down at the girl’s translucent companion. “So that’s what that is...”

Phantoms were not something he saw extremely often, since they were mainly nocturnal things and night was a death sentence for the boy. According to his studies, they were about as abundant in Gensokyo as fairies, however they were far less interesting. They were also “aspect”-based beings, but they embodied temperaments instead of concepts or elements, and therefore were simplicity itself. They gathered around depressing old places evoking “sadness”, and if they were “happy” they displayed and shared their happiness, but they did not speak and did not think. They were just a natural occurrence, almost like weather. How does one breed with the weather? That was all he could think. Though perhaps there was something else to it: some sort of ritual... At any rate, the half-phantom part of a half-human, half-phantom looked like a truly odd being... Was it half-human itself? Four halves? Was it thinking?

“Your... phantom half?” Gen spoke again. “How does it...?”

“It’s nothing too crazy, I’m just double- and half-bodied,” she explained, not making any sense.

“I see,” Gen said. Then, he decided to answer her first question. “I’m not any part youkai. Any of that you sense from me is from an... accident. I’m an apprentice human aiming to become a magician human.”

“Oh, then, I was basically wondering if you could help me with something,” she continued. “My Mistress has a request of me that I’m not sure I can do.”

_‘Mistress’... Hey, wait a second._

“Why is a resident of the Netherworld in the land of the living?” he asked her, knowing that freely traveling between dead lands and life lands was fully possible, but possibly dangerous (no matter what you were). He lowered his hand now that he seemed to have calmed down.

“My Mistress said that I had to stop asking questions and just go learn how to gather spri—...” The girl stopped here. He raised an eyebrow. She had lowered her gaze, and now she looked up at him. Finding his gaze to meet her, she yelped in surprise and some concern and said, “Oh! Did you notice that!?”

He hadn’t calmed down.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening,” he lied.

“Oh good,” she said, looking very relieved and placing a hand over her chest. “So I was wondering if you could help me with... _gardening_ ,” she stressed, staring at him intensely. “I want to take care of some things... _out of season_.” What was this?

Gen became confused, looking left and right during a good pause before he asked, “... Is this some sort of code?”

“I was emphasizing,” the girl said with her hands now parallel and before her. “After all this is important.”

“Well... if you want someone to help with gardening, you shouldn’t expect a magician to be very helpful,” he said. “Try Muenzuka. There should be a youkai there with exceptional flower magic. Just... don’t upset her.”

“Oh, no, I don’t need flower magic, that’s why I emphasized... _season_ , sir.” She grimaced, wrinkling her nose. He looked at her face openly, and found himself looking over her arms, dress, and legs before he pulled his gaze back up. It was close. He was ashamed to be so attracted. While he thought to despair in a dark corner far away from here, the girl continued to speak, “My name is Ko... Youmu, actually. My family has served my Mistress for quite a long time, but only recently I have had to take up the mantle the first gardener, Grandp... my Master, left behind. I do not know very much, and haven’t even been alive very long, and the Mistress has many strange things to say, so I’m often quite turned around. It’s very hard for me.”

He nodded, saying. “I see, I see.”

“Most recently she wants me to manipulate seasons with my gardening, but I cannot do that. I can cut flowers and plant flowers; I cannot bring new air to them. But, I think, a magician...”

This Youmu presented him a charming half smile and her hands out, indicating she meant him by “a magician”. He tried to ignore the effect this had on his heart by clearing his throat, and after responded to her.

“Certainly magicians can manipulate the elements of seasons to some extent, but Y... Miss... Youmu... you aren’t a magician, and if you’ve come here straight from a land of the dead, shouldn’t you look a little farther before settling on your first opportunity?”

“Huh? If an easy answer presents itself before me, I should grab it, definitely,” she told him clearly. Youmu did not seem like she would budge on this point. “Efforts bear fruit, but other times fruit falls from trees. Should you ignore the fruit at your feet because there is merit in climbing the tree? No. Effort has merit, but effort is frustrating.”

“Well... you aren’t wrong.” He screwed up his mouth to a wavy frown, staring now askance.

_You aren’t wrong, but I’m not even sure I can help you._

“... I’ll tell you what, Miss Youmu,” he finally said after a period of silence, “I’ll think about helping you, but only if you sincerely consider whether or not you want my help. If you want you can even tag along with me while I conduct my business. I’ll be here at the Road and the Sanzu River for a bit longer still... Maybe the answer for how a half-phantom gardener can alter the seasons for her gardening will come to you in that time.”

Youmu frowned and put down her brow, “I’ve been thinking ever since, though...” she mumbled. Then, she sighed, shrugging. “Okay,” she said, “but I don’t think I can wait very long. Please come to your decision on when I need to come to a decision on relying on your decision soon.”

He began to step away and told her, “Yes, I will do that.”

And she followed him, apparently deciding to tag along.

Gen pulled at his collar and his face was full of worry. He wanted to not think about how he wanted to see her walk. Trying to sober his thoughts with those of death, he marched toward the golden tapestry that led to the river where pyschopomps gave crossing, wondering what he’d feel when he finally made it there.

~~

* * *

Anchor: H7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/205843).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2239462).[[3]](https://twitter.com/kozou20xx/status/434285669079199745)

* * *

The Road of Liminality was far longer than it actually seemed. When he asked the half-phantom gardener why this was, she told him, “What? Isn’t it somewhat shorter?”

So he formed a little and simple enough theory: something about this way, meant to be traveled by the recently departed, made its length or the time that it took to traverse change depending on whether you yourself were deceased. Phantoms were a kind of “dead”, so perhaps Miss Youmu’s perception or actual distance to the afterlife was shorter. For a place as preposterous as Gensokyo, this seemed very likely to him.

The journey on felt both plodding and pulling – that is to say, every step closer to the border of life and death gave him a sense at his back like something was trying to keep him here. He did not feel like moving forward was a distinctly _bad_ idea, but he did, of abnormally sober mind, consider that the presence of the dead above flying into the beyond meant there was a fairly likely possibility that crossing the threshold into the last line before the afterlife would kill him. He knew this would not happen, however, because his Master had told him to go there.

He walked.

And walked.

And walked.

He watched... Youmu, and the sway of her dress.

He walked more, eyes shut.

He thought about Aomu. If he met her again, she’d immediately discover his humanity. What about the other kappa? He’d have to have their second meeting alone, and preferably not near a body of water.

He walked.

The Road of Liminality had an interesting, faintly flowery smell. He remembered his Master, who always smelled of books and often of lavender. He thought: it was a nice dream to sleep against Lady Patchouli again...

He walked.

And walked.

And walked.

And walked.

Long ago the stands to the sides of the road dwindled in number. Now he would only see one every few days along. After some time, there was nothing else to see.

So, he walked.

... But, there was a strange sense, to be beneath, followed by, and alongside so many newly ended lives, doing what they should, and were they not thinking anything else? They re-entered the wheel as if it was the only choice. How soon after death did your “self” also die?

Considering this, the mortal walked slowly down a dead man’s road.

And now, after a month of travel that Youmu said took minutes, he was finally before the golden “gate”.

Standing in front of it was not too bizarre, he was interested to find. The foggy, dense, and layered thing was terribly opaque up close; from a distance, he’d swore he could see just a bit through it, but as he stood in front of these ethereal curtains now he saw that it was only shimmering and shining light.

He touched it, and predictably felt nothing.

“What are you waiting for?” his gardener companion asked, wearing a face very expressive of her confusion. “I’m going ahead.”

Youmu walked through and he rubbed at his eyes. It felt in his head but not in his body like it had been ages since he’d started toward this phantasmal thing – this end of the world wonder – and he was a little upset he couldn’t bring excitement out because of that. He ploddingly followed after the girl, and as soon as he stepped within the ghostly folds heard a cacophony of whispers and felt he was in a flurry of sentiments. All sentiments, surprisingly. Not everyone was so sad to die.

_Free_

_Wait_

_Mother_

_Father_

_Not yet_

_Not yet_

_Now Just a bit further But I’m not ready Ah to die to die It was a life I suppose Just like that Where am I What’s this Wonder what I’ll have for lunch tomorrow The sky is so clear So tired How much longer do I have These days are so peaceful Another flower viewing was On the other side there are only ever flowers That was a festival wasn’t it Not much longer But really the pain was It was painless so I’m thankful I’m thankful Thank you My dear family my love I am nothing but sorry_

“Bloody hell...” Gen whispered, finding himself accosted and becoming irritable for it. He had a hand on his head and had only made one step, but after only a few more and before he knew it he was on the shore of the Earthly world before the river Sanzu (the shore called “Shigan”) and bewildered. He was confounded... but he was also thankful that passions at all had returned to him.

Youmu stood in front of him. She was still, looking toward Higan (the opposite shore) undaunted.

But the sight of the other shore, and of here, was mortally daunting.

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=OPEu8px02Ts> ]  
[迎え火 - 幻想郷事変 (Floating Cloud)]

The shore of the Sanzu River was lifeless. He stood on firm sand that hardly broke under his step, and not one blade of grass could be found anywhere. Reaching out from where the shore ended was a fairly long pier, but no boat to go with it. To his right was a line of souls stretching infinitely and facing the river, and to his left was a line of souls stretching infinitely and facing the river. They all stayed and waited, and overhead the new souls went right or left to enter the lines and wait as well. To wait for the ferryman that would take them away for the last moments at Higan, and the judgement to end them and send them to Heaven, Hell, or another place. The shore of the Sanzu River was dead, dayless, nightless, and thick with mist.

Higan...

Higan was not close, but could faintly be seen sometimes when time shifted and the shining mists went away. The sight of Higan was one of those that took Gen out of himself, and reminded him that he had come to another world. The souls of the dead took old shape at Higan, dressed in white gowns, motionless on their feet or on the ground, and watching the other side. He had read that not everyone knew they had passed on when they came to cross the River, but as they awaited judgement at Higan, only capable of sober reflection, they understood their death. A million flowers, disregarding season, bloomed at Higan and were beautiful, but also still. It was a windless, warm, and wistful place. The river before it was broken in many places by rocks breaching the water, but the water itself had nearly stopped: one could barely note the river’s flow. Looking at the mosses covering those stones, and wondering whether these mosses were signifying life at all, he felt sorrowful, and was deeply compelled to leave.

“How is it for you when you watch Higan?”

Gen lifted his gaze from his feet to see that Youmu had turned back to him to ask that. He thought her eyes seemed colorless. She spoke again, “I don’t think much of it, but Master told me whenever I should see it, I should think on it deeply.” She looked over her shoulder and across the river. “I’m thinking, there’s no deep meaning in this... When I die I will not go to Higan, I will not cross the Sanzu River. I will not be judged because I am not from Gensokyo, but instead a place where all are already considered dead, though I’m only half-dead.

“So, Sir Magician: as a full mortal, does the sight of Higan change you or make you think?”

“My name is Gen, so feel free to call me that,” he first said. Then, looking all over this environment split between two worlds with his hand to his chin, he told Youmu: “It does make me think, quite a lot actually. I don’t have forever to live, far from it, and this place ever since I stepped on the Road of Liminality has been reminding me of the fact. Here, it’s only more sobering...” He brought his eyes back to her, finding that she was looking at him again. “How long do half-phantoms live?”

“We live for hundreds of years. Grandpa won’t be much lo... Oh...” she realized her mistake and dropped her gaze. With this fact of her grandfather’s nearing death, she did not seem sure of how to feel. She eventually spoke again saying, “Master... won’t be much longer, I guess,” while gripping at her skirt and squinting hard. She seemed to have a lot on her mind.

“How do you feel about your grandfather’s mortality while looking at Higan?” he asked.

She picked up her head with speed, wearing a wiggling smile. “Hm!?” she grunted. “Grandfather!?”

“I meant your master.”

“Of course...! Ah... Master, huh? ... Master... is very old and full of life. I’ve always thought he’d never die. I haven’t thought about it. Master dying... No way, right?” She shook her head and gripped harder at her skirt. Next, with finality, she said, “He’ll die, I suppose.”

 _I guess there’s some sort of cultural or racial perspective there..._ he thought.

“I guess... I can’t really think about death,” Youmu said, almost to herself while she rested an elbow in her left hand and lifted her right to her lips. “Maybe that’s what Grandpa wanted me to think about.”

She didn’t notice, and he didn’t bother correcting her. Instead, he looked past Youmu (difficult, as she always drew his attention) because he now saw a shadow becoming a figure in the distance. It moved soundlessly, but he could somewhat hear a voice coming with it, and slowly raising in volume. It was a singing voice, not dedicated in its song.

“ _And with fifty more... The hare will sing...  
‘Fifty more~ fifty more~... I have fifty more  
‘Singing and dancing inside  
‘Fifty more children I have...’_

_And with a hundred more... The hare will sing...  
‘A hundred more~ a hundred more~... I have a hundred more  
‘Singing and dancing inside  
‘A hundred more children I have...’_

_The hare will always sing~ no matter how many more~  
The hare will always sing~ when there are a hundred no more  
Fifty no more...  
Twenty no more...  
No more~ No more~ Yet the hare will sing...  
_Hm. Time for a break.”

Quietly, the figure reached the pier, apparently manning a boat to cross the river. It looked to be a woman, and she stood very tall, holding a scythe like the shinigami he’d seen before (though unlike the shinigami’s, this scythe had an obviously warped blade). She attached her boat to the pier with a rope, yawned greatly, and stretched. “I’m working hard today...” she said absently, “but I wonder just what happened. So many today...” touching her sternum, she yawned again and lightly sang, “ _No more~_ ” and she began to walk toward the Shigan.

The death god ferryman of Gensokyo, Onozuka Komachi, looked tired and yet satisfied. As she approached, hands behind her head and scythe’s blade pointed down, she frowned at the pair of living and half-living standing on her shore.

“What?” she spoke loudly, “I’m not ferrying you unless you have the money for it, and even if you want that I’m not going to do it. It’s against my moral code, so find another shinigami to help you die.”

Youmu faced her and Gen looked her over. He’d come across a report that a year ago Miss Onozuka had become Gensokyo’s ferryman at the Sanzu river, and he thought her distinct appearance was actually underplayed. The reaper was very tall and of _exceedingly_ womanly figure. Her semi-long hair, cardinal in color and done in pigtails, seemed to him unreal, and how she carried herself was almost ludicrously imposing when considering she obviously kept to a very casual posture. Her outfit, too, looked to be something she wore because it was easy to move in: being a short-sleeved and wide-dress modified blue and white kimono with a great, flared, orange obi. Looking into her glowering red eyes, he wondered if all residents of hell simply instilled fear in the living through their presence—and not a fear of the unknowable as youkai often passively instilled, but fear of the inevitable end. She stopped in front of them with a stomp of her geta, kicking up a small cloud of sand and announcing herself.

“Half-phantom, human, you stand at the Sanzu River both out of place. I am the ferryman of the river: a shinigami sent from the Ministry of Right and Wrong. I ferry _the dead_. You, who live, please just leave.”

“ _Half_ -live,” Youmu answered without hesitation.

The ferryman stepped over the gardener – _far_ over her in a show of obvious intimidation. She bent her head and even a little of her back over the white-haired child. “Cheeky little half-phantom,” she began, “you know, although we’re in Gensokyo, I would be well within my rights to take away that half-life of yours, Shrine Maiden or no. Do you want me to reap your two split souls, little gardener of the Saigyouji?” saying this – and with speed Gen could not see – the tall woman spun her scythe around her neck and brought it down so that Youmu stood between its blade and her body. Youmu did not flinch, she merely put a hand on each of her swords.

“Who said I was a gardener? Touch me and I’ll sever you, shinigami,” Youmu coolly threatened. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

And, to Gen’s surprise, the woman smirked. She pulled away her scythe and laughed once through her nose before speaking again. “I’m on break,” she explained, “and since I’m on break I don’t feel like lecturing you. Let’s not be polite and skip the common pleasantries. I’m too tired for it all – I’m just not up to it.” She planted her scythe into the sands like a staff, and slapped her free hand on Youmu’s shoulder (Youmu, who would not take her hands from her blades’ handles). She grinned and spoke again:

“Calm down, alright? Relax, relax. How about we throw that tension away and meet again on better terms some other time, alright Little Miss?” While she finished this sentence, she lifted her eyes to Gen. She stared at him for a while, and after the while her grin widened, and wickedly. “The little half-phantom has a chance, slim as can be, but I won’t ever be ferrying _you_ , now, will I?”

Gen knew what she meant by this, and asked, “What do you mean?”

“Ah, right, right, I just said we’re still in Gensokyo...” she replied with a shrug, taking her hand from Youmu’s shoulder (Youmu, who _still_ would not take her hands from her blades’ handles, but was now deep in thought and staring off into space before her). “Now, now,” she raised her left hand, palm to him, “don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. In fact—come on.”

Komachi walked over to Gen, abandoning Youmu and pulling him under her shoulder to his sudden puzzlement. She was a little taller than him.

“You’re kind of awesome, aren’t you?” she whispered into his ear, stopping him from squirming in her grasp. “You’re alive, and you boldly went to the Sanzu River. I usually only talk to the dead, but I really, _really_ want to talk to you. So come, follow me; let’s chat out of earshot of the almost-dead boyish girl. I have _got_ to know what this crazy human is thinking.”

“Wait,” Gen pleaded, lightly holding her arm which had settled under his chin, “I’m supposed to talk to that girl about something.”

“Talk to her later,” she said, and she dragged Gen along, “time is limited for all of us. Let us use what little of it we have left on unique things. After all...” her whisper became quieter, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, “ _outsiders like you don’t meet shinigami._ They die cold, dark deaths.”

He forced a stop and glared at Komachi. She beamed at him.

“So, up and at ‘em, broken boy.”

After saying this, she ushered him down Sanzu River’s shoreline, leaving a very pensive Youmu behind.

~~

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Anchor: I7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2105478)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sbl6J_7JO7k> ]  
[花の映る塚 彼岸の塚 ～ Unnamed Scenery – 闡提宗祀 ～ Offering to The Sukhavati (Demetori)]

“Heh! Aha! _Ha ha ha haaa...!_ Ah... Getting over to the edge of the Earth for such a simple reason... Itou... you should find your spine before she ties you with an actual rope for a leash.”

“I’m only alive thanks to her and her friend.”

“You’re going to die,” the shinigami snorted after saying this and poured herself sake into a small dish cup from a tokkuri, “and when you do, I’m not going to take you, you’re just going to die.” She drank, and sighed. “Sad~, sad~,” she sang.

“When death faces me and I am able, I intend to run the other way. If the end I face, too, is dead, then I’ll throw something in the face of death instead.” Gen was sure of this, as he had to be sure. Komachi tipped the bottle in her hand toward him, and he lifted his sakazuki to its mouth. Receiving a drink, he put it to his lips and sipped, adding: “Preferably magic, but a stick or whatever will also do if it comes to that.”

They sat both cross-legged, side-by-side on the Sanzu River shore and facing the river itself. They had gone quite a way from the pier. Komachi had brought out alcohol despite being on the job, and an entire sake set as well. He had chastised her for this, to which she’d responded the same way as she was doing right now:

“Funny human,” she said with a chuckle, “funny.”

He had just finished telling her the story of the last three months of his life. Apparently outsiders almost never went to the River, or if they did they found residence in Gensokyo first. Because Gen hadn’t resigned to being a human villager (he had in fact never even _been_ to the human village) that meant he was in Gensokyo as an “other”. If an outsider became a villager, they entered Gensokyo’s jurisdiction for river crossing after death. If an outsider like him died, they were cremated at Muenzuka. He knew that already, and was getting rather disgusted with how often he was being reminded.

He made to finish his cup. It was his first try at a warm alcohol. He thought: it was pretty nice.

“How do you enjoy sake warmed in stygian waters?” asked Komachi with a toothy smirk.

“Stygian? Aren’t we at Sanzu, not the Styx?”

“Shut up.”

“And ‘stygian’ tends to imply cold, doesn’t it?”

“Man,” she groaned, “come on, I just wanted to use the word.” She frowned and he saw her face was red. She lowered her eyelids and pointed at him with her flask, taking a commanding tone: ”Answer my question, mortal,” she demanded.

“Aren’t you mortal?” his rebuttal was immediate.

Komachi pulled back with some shock. “Aren’t you cheeky?” she complained, looking back to the river and bringing her sakazuki up. “You and the half-phantom.”

“Half-human,” he corrected.

“On a roll, huh... Just answer.”

“Yes, it’s rather good, so thank you.”

Komachi absently drank, and Gen peered into the almost-still waters of the river. The woman beside him had heated her sake-filled tokkuri by holding its lower half in the water for a bit. According to her it wasn’t _very_ hot, but would get the job done. She warned that he shouldn’t get too close to the river himself, however, as falling in would mean death. Nothing other than her boat would hang well in the water rather than sink. He might be able to survive—but he’d have a hell of a hard go of it. Now, he could see that beneath the water was a vast assortment of fish, but... supposedly they were all dead. Thinking this, he unexpectedly brought up his head in a fast and flinch-like movement, and the ferryman herself flinched in earnest to this act.

“Can I ask you some questions, Miss Komachi?” He asked with frankness to his voice. “About the stands on the road leading here.”

“What’s that?” she inquired, her expression now serene while she refilled her cup.

“‘Soul candy’, ‘dead goldfish catching’, ‘phantom ice cream’... How much of all that is legitimate?”

“Ah...” she gave this sound before drinking again. She had an almost forlorn look in her eyes, running counter to her smile. “I’m not sure how much I can say about the Road of Liminality, and the stands that Hell has put on it, but... sure, I can explain a few things. The fish ARE dead. The ice cream IS cooled by phantoms. The soul candy... it’s just plain candy in a shape.”

Gen breathed in, and then sighed out long with relief. He set his sakazuki on his thigh and felt around in his robes for the candy he’d bought (the departed goldfish was in a skin on his belt), weaseled it open, and tied it back up after taking a candy out. He thought over trusting Komachi... and decided it was fine. He tossed the candy into his mouth and his lips naturally curled with physical joy to the taste. It was almost like caramel... Master Patchouli would love these. He’d have to get more.

While sucking on the thing and using his tongue to play with its “tail”, he picked back up his cup and considered drinking with the candy still in his mouth.

“Sure!” said the shinigami, watching him. “It’s a fine enough taste.”

He looked at her goading him into drinking, and shrugged briefly before doing so, mixing sweets and tepid rice wine. His expression twisted... While not bad, it wasn’t the best of tastes. Komachi at his right was smirking at him like laughter was only seconds away. He tucked the candy into his cheek and swallowed.

“So, a Magician huh...” said the ferryman, pouring more sake for him.

“A magician, that’s right.” Cup full, he brought it to rest with his hand in his lap and gazed out to Higan.

“So Itou, do you want to become immortal?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know yet.”

“Well, just, for what it’s worth...” Komachi brought up her knees and stretched her arms out over them, putting her head down and looking off to nowhere in particular “... most immortals are hunted by us shinigami.”

Gen had been lazily rolling the candy over his tongue and now nearly swallowed it to her note. Stopping a choking accident, he put the candy under his tongue and uttered, “Eh?” while swiveling his neck and coming to meet her eyes. She looked a bit dazed for a moment, and then offered a teasing expression.

“Escaping the wheel of life and death, that samsara, is an unforgivable crime,” she said cheerfully. “Hermits and Celestials, for example, are endlessly hunted until they properly die.”

Feeling a chill, he gripped at his dish before speaking again, “You know, I thought it sounded too easy.”

“For you,” she clarified, “it would be easi _er_.”

Gen was confused.

Komachi put down her flask and pointed at him lazily while she explained, “You want to be a Magician. Magicians don’t actually break the rules, and we don’t hunt them. You might think, a Magician’s weak body, almost crippled by the poisons they breathe every day, is the price to pay for immortality, but it’s actually really simple: Magicians, _earn it_.”

“Hermits and Heavensmen don’t earn their long lives?” he asked, now reducing the candy in his mouth to a sliver.

“Not often enough, and even if’n they do the process is too simple. Some Celestials will simply transcend the mortal coil having not done anything. Some Hermits need to do very little to escape the wheel. All of them cheat death, but Magicians craft life. That difference means we can’t kill you...” she chuckled after admitting this, adding, “But I want to kill you Magicians. Nothing that lives should never die. It is repugnant with sin to do so.”

He stared at the tipsy ferryman a little fogged of the head as well (but still drinking now that his candy had melted), however he could think clearly enough about what she’d said. If he became an immortal through means of magic, entirely properly, he would live out his life for as long as he wished to live it and without consequence. He had to imagine it was not easy to become a full magician, certainly, but... with how Wakasagihime and his Master had spoken, he knew there must be something more.

So, he asked.

“Komachi...” he said, “what does it mean for a human to become a youkai of their own free will, and how are they judged for the act?”

“I don’t know,” Komachi was quick to answer, “it’s Lady Shiki’s decision, based in no law, that determines how and for what you are judged. She’s the Yama presiding over Gensokyo, and she judges all its dead. The most I judge is the newly dead on whether or not they’re willing to make the crossing.” She huffed, and drained a full sakazuki, sighing afterward. With bleary eyes, she addressed him, “A word of advice: part with what you’ve got without hesitation should you ever meet me again and dead at this river. Otherwise, I’ll boot you part of the way across so your soul is eaten by old water dragons.”

“Huh...” He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“I do know this, though, Gen:” she continued, reaching once more for her tokkuri, “generally speaking, a human becoming youkai is considered a sin, though for an outsider like you, you would get away with turning without the Shrine Maiden coming for your throat at least. Villagers do not have that freedom.” She shrugged. “Of course, well, I don’t think I need to tell you again what danger your freedom in that world brings.”

“So... it’s entirely up in the air how I’d be judged if I died after becoming a full magician? That’s somewhat worrying.”

“Lady Shiki is—” Komachi began with a prideful smile, but it quickly went away. She now frowned at him instead. “Look at you,” she accused, “getting me drunk and trying to have me reveal the secrets of the afterlife.” She puffed out her cheek and knitted her eyebrows.

“Huh...” he answered with a look beseeching no-nonsense. Then he asked: “Must I say that you got yourself drunk?” as she bent her neck back and drank once more. She finished, and a droplet fell from her lips when she pulled the cup away.

“Well I’m done now,” she stated, and she began to gather the sake set to a large wooden box she had brought (according to her it wasn’t that she had all this on her at work, but rather she retrieved it from home in a second – whatever that meant). Gingerly raising the tokkuri, she swished it a bit and heard it was still a little full, so she looked at Gen and swiftly bent over him. He looked into her eyes, his own finished sakazuki in his hand and unmoving. She next said this, “How about a kiss of death?” and she came in to him close.

His eyes widened as she put the mouth of her flask to that of his countenance and forced him to drink. Wincing, he gulped down what was left, and breathed out quickly when it was done. She took the tokkuri from him then and turned up her lips with satisfaction at his now-reddened face: red for two reasons. “Were you expecting something else?” she said.

“I wasn’t expecting any of that...” he replied, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Komachi reached between his legs and took her second sakazuki, causing him to withdraw from her. Humming, she put everything away and closed her wooden box. Taking it and the bottle of alcohol she’d brought up, she next stood and held them beneath her left arm while facing west. Then, she reached forward with her free hand. Thinking he’d gotten drunk, Gen rubbed his right eye at the sight of a candlelit room with a dining table and dark wood everywhere moving rapidly toward her. When it was close enough, Komachi put the things down on the table, and then the cozy room flew away. He was _definitely_ out his mind.

“Pheeewww~...” the ferryman sighed, stretching her arms overhead. She playfully spun her scythe in showy motions round her arms, over her waist, between her hands, and eventually brought it to rest behind her neck saying, “Ahh, not too bad. I can work like this.” She finally looked down on Gen (who was still curled away from her like a wary kitten) and talked to him. “Let’s get back to that boyish girl,” she suggested. “How much do you want to bet she’s still standing there, lost in thought?”

“... You’re quite the rude shinigami,” said Gen, bringing himself to his feet. The Earth seemed to shift a bit and he shook his head. He didn’t seem to be drunk or even tipsy after all that, but he was certainly a little affected by the alcohol.

“Everybody’s different,” she said, defending herself with a hand raised dismissively and her eyes closed. Now _she_ shook her head and told him, “I’m me.”

“Well anyway I’m betting nothing,” he said flatly.

“I’m betting she is... Alright, let’s get moving.”

“And you get back to working?”

“Of course!” Komachi scoffed, walking ahead of him. “It’s not like I’m lazy!”

~~

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Anchor: J7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2576079)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yA3lJ6wIksQ> ]  
[散華 – 花天月地 (Hachimitsu-Lemon)]

“Ah, you’re back.”

Youmu was standing before the pier when they returned. She had her large blade out and thrust into the sands, keeping it there so she could rest her hands on its grandiose plume. Gen wondered if she had indeed been just standing there and thinking this whole while.

“I stopped thinking a while ago,” she answered his thoughts, “I’ve decided: for now it’s fine if unknowns stay unknowns, so long as they don’t get in the way of what I have to do for Lady Yuyuko.”

To this, Komachi suddenly laughed, spraying a mist of liquor-tinged air and spittle as she had tried to stop it, and making Gen jerk away from her. She held her stomach and was in tears as she attempted to not _roar_ with laughter.

Looking back to Youmu, Gen saw that she was blushing deeply. She coughed into her fist twice and said, “Never mind what I just said. I only mean... That, to do my job, I will only do what is necessary. So, Gen.” She stared straight into his eyes. He’d probably have blushed himself if not for Komachi dying of amusement at his side.

“Yes?” he responded.

“I’m sorry, but now I have two requests.”

“Two, eh? When I’m not even sure about finishing one?”

“Please hear me out,” she politely begged. “First, I still wish to ask you for help with gathering seasons, with magic or anything else. I need some method, and I need one as soon as possible. I can’t afford to waste time seeking out magicians or ascetics and hoping I can find the answer. You may be able to help me, so I need to grab hold of you now.”

“I see...” Gen replied, almost disappointed. He was the sort to try as much as he could on his own... Youmu’s reliance on him without seeking other avenues first seemed like it wouldn’t help her situation. But, well, practical mindsets were just as valid as ones focused on merits.

“Second, I wish to fight you.”

“Everyone in Gensokyo fights...” he said with a sigh, looking down at the chuckling Komachi (who was every so often muttering “Lady Yuyuko... pffha” and such).

“I realized that I can’t trust you for a parlor trick I saw you perform on the Road of Liminality. I need to know whether you have true magical ability or not. What’s more, I realized it was rude of me to openly request your help without proving _myself_ first. While I still abide by my philosophy of taking the road traveled decently at all before the one traveled not or far less, I think I should earn at least this.”

 _Oh_ , Gen thought, _that’s better._

“So, I want my second request first, if you are willing,” she explained. “If you win, you can request anything of me. If I win, you will help me understand the power of seasons!”

Youmu pulled up her sword and, in a flashy motion, returned it to its sheath while Komachi stared at her, giggling intensely. The shinigami eventually found her breath again and straightened up, thumbing tears from her eyes. She spoke up, “Haaah... So you want to fight on the Shigan? Watching that might sober me up.” She nodded her head at Gen. “What do you say, Gen? I’m curious about that magic the librarian taught you.”

Gen wasn’t actually sure. He was a bit worried about potentially injuring his arm further. While it sounded like this would be a proper, non-lethal spell card duel, bullets still harmed and they did not harm lightly. He had also just finished drinking, and while he judged himself largely clear-headed, it was _his_ judgement and perception; he might be very sloppy right now. There was no real other hand to this; he was seriously worried about his arm. He wasn’t sure about possibly helping Youmu, either... Her bullheaded way of thinking probably wouldn’t be helpful to her in the long run. While he liked the sound of being able to see her more, he determined he’d rather not think about being so fond of that idea. Although Youmu was of a long-lived race, he got the _distinct_ impression that she was actually as young as she looked (as if it would matter if she were fifty or sixty?), and he was physically attracted to a fourteen year old girl. He didn’t know he was like this.

So, when Komachi asked him what he wanted to do, he thought about it, and thought about it, and decided to tell her,

[] “Why the hell not?”

[] “I think I’ll have to refuse.”

<>

[X] “Why the hell not?”

* * *

Anchor: K7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/580991)

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“Oh?” Komachi seemed pleased.

“I ought to admit something first, though,” he continued, looking over to Youmu. He tapped his skull. “I’m honestly a little out of it: had a drink with the ferryman just now so I’m probably not all together... Oh! And—” he tapped his slung and cast left arm now “—this is broken, of course. Though while I’m worried about getting hit there, my Master only let me travel today as she expected I was able to fight, and, yes, it’s true.” He shrugged and smirked, eyes closed. “Magicians don’t need two arms to fight.”

His ears perked up to the crunch of sand, and he opened his eyes to see Youmu walking at an even pace toward him. She put her left hand to the sword on her waist, and spoke, “If you’ve lost your left arm, use your right. If you’ve lost your right arm, use your left...” Nearing him, she began to unsheathe the wakizashi. She stomped down her right foot and Gen stepped back with his left. She professed: “If you’ve lost both arms...” with blinding light and speed her blade was brought out, and she threw a curved strike that instantly flew through his remaining good limb “... kick!”

Air rushed over him and he squeezed his eyes closed. The arm he’d brought up to block the half-human, half-phantom’s blow felt a dull pain... but seemed to still be there. He looked down at it. Part of his sleeve was sliced open, and he had a surface cut on his skin, but that damage was all. Muttering “What...?” he noticed that it felt like he’d just, truly, woken up, and without any hangover like that of the morning after he, the Princess, and the gatekeeper had drank jubilant at Misty Lake. In his belly he still felt alcohol’s warmth, but he had become utterly sober: perhaps more sober than he had ever been before.

“But indeed, a magician needs no hands or feet,” Youmu declared, eyes shut with brow and lids still. She slid her weapon back into its sheath and finished by saying: “so long as you have a tongue and a voice to use it, you are still in the fight!”

Youmu lifted her eyelids and met his eyes, showing him a face determined, proud, and satisfied. She happily explained what just had happened without him having to ask, “I have slashed the confusion from your mind with my Hakurouken. While I have no concern over whether or not you’re drunk when we duel, if you have concern over it then I have no problem assisting. With that in mind, I thank you for accepting my challenge!” She bowed and he backed away. She was a bit too close and low for his comfort.

“Think nothing of it;” he told her with his hand raised, “I thank you for giving me a clear head before I head home. My Master would’ve probably scolded me for wandering home, drunk, tipsy, buzzed, or even with that knowable scent on my person.” He blinked and reset his expression, realizing in other words he’d probably be scolded later.

“No, no, it’s my pleasure!” Youmu lifted her head, beaming, as she spoke toward his belt and zipper. His cheeks were colored and his heart beat and Komachi at his side noticed this all with a knowing, mocking grin. Youmu noticed nothing, and continued unabated, “I should explain a few aspects of our duel before we begin!”

She finally lifted herself up and began to walk back to where she’d been standing before, explaining as she’d said she would, “At the Sanzu River, one cannot fly, so our battle will be grounded. Furthermore... I am not used to danmaku! You will have to forgive any of my clumsiness!”

“Alright...” he quietly replied. He still figured she’d trounce him, given the speed she’d just demonstrated. As for the lack of flight, it wasn’t as if he could check. He gave Komachi a look to ask her for confirmation.

The ferryman responded by closing her eyes and gently placing her hand on his shoulder. In the next moment, she suddenly opened her eyes back up, wearing a smirk and lifting the thumb from her free hand. “Don’t worry,” she said, tipping her head toward the gardener, “it’s not a sin here.”

And she winked.

Gen’s expression melted into one bordering repugnance and indignation as she turned from him to return to the pier. He shook his head. This wasn’t the time for concerns over his tastes; this was the time for battle.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PxIekhoKEVw> ]  
[東方妖々夢でメタルっぽい何か - 特臭幻想狂 (O-LIFE.JP)]

Youmu stopped.

She breathed out and muttered, “Okay...” grasping the handle of the sword at her back. “Once more, I would like to express my gratitude... In respect for your bravery, I will hold nothing back!”

He reflexively touched one of the grimoires at his waist, and noticed with a tilt of his head and a lifted eyebrow that a breeze had begun to drift over the Shigan. Rapidly it became an earnest gust, and he saw that it was circling, and gathering to her. She thumbed at her sword’s guard, casting a sharp glare that struck his eyes. She began to the blade out now, and as she did so the winds’ pace increased.

“But I should warn you...”

She tore the katana free and with it came an otherworldly glow, the vortex spiraling the blade with its eye at the guard. She held the shining weapon with both hands before her and seemed to focus as she entered a swordsman’s stance. Readied, she boasted with confidence:

“This Roukanken, forged by youkai... the things it cannot cut...” she bent low and raised the Roukanken so that it was beside her face, showing him a fierce stare and giving a proud shout: “... are simply none!”

“Whoa now, what the hell...!?” Gen couldn’t help voicing disbelief. “Seriously? Like in a shounen manga!?”

From both Youmu and her sword, pale violet energy was fiercely whirling. Her hair and dress were whipped about violently, and her grip seemed intense. Sands were tossed up, and the river rippled as he felt a light rumble invading everything. He was reminded somewhat of his witnessing of Meiling gathering qi, but mostly he was reminded of absurd powers from fictional bouts. Youmu seemed to legitimately be charging her strength, and the sheer ridiculousness of that fact gave him severe pause.

“Move or be slashed!” she yelled. And with that, she made her first cut.

Carving “blue” before her and somehow severing the air in a foggy, warped display, Youmu sent forth a wave of arrow-like bullets from the resulting wound in the atmosphere. Mercifully while certainly fast, it was all slowly aimed toward him: he needed only to move aside and begin his counterattack to stop her. He’d cast directly from his spirit this time, since he’d been eager to see how strong his magic was without any element attached to it against a _not_ ludicrously powerful enemy. While he prepared and came to fire, Youmu moved in parallel to him and cleaved the air again, this time cutting “red” for more arrows, though these aimed “around” him, interestingly.

It was decent for a warmup. Somewhat more difficult to contend with was a strange pattern of hers when not distorting the sky: she seemed to summon a pair of pulsing lights near to him that bent back toward her, and with each quick pulse they “dropped” orbs of yellow and blue, or yellow and green in some sort of crisscrossing fan. His first instinct was to waver in step between it all, but he quickly realized it was simpler to move forward, and only step aside when needed. With satisfaction evident in his smile, he soon dealt enough damage to have Youmu pull a card.

“Alright!” she cried, “Preta Sword ‘Scroll of the Preta Realm’!”

Gen puffed air from his mouth, saying under his breath, “What? No way.”

Smirking with his note of the coincidence, he watched as Youmu “charged” again. This time it seemed she was focusing greater powers: the energies were shaped in body-sized flower petals now before she absorbed them. He shot at her all the while, and then something bizarre transpired.

With the sound of a shattered chime, not only did ethers distort, but “time” seemed to as well as the gardener, and the flower petals gathering to her became almost blindingly white. Everything slowed down, including his own movements, and just as he came to realize the madness of this, Youmu moved laterally several meters to her right, ripping her sword through atmosphere all the while. Again this brought forth a blue arrow barrage, but his first thought upon seeing it hurtling toward him was _What? This is illegal, isn’t it?_

There was no space. Telling someone to dodge this would be like telling them to go swim in the ocean and dodge waves. It did look like crashing waves, now he’d thought of it. Putting that thought away, he gazed into the dense “pattern” and figured there must be a way through this—he just didn’t see it yet.

Just as the bullet curtain came upon him, again he heard a broken chime, and again time slowed. Youmu’s arrows glowed with too much intensity, and he had to squint. As he squinted, he didn’t see a way through, per se, but saw a few opportunities to _not_ be hit. So, he took them... or he tried. He was reminded of two things in these excruciatingly slow seconds: the American film _Matrix_ , and the American video game _Max Payne_. It was a recent trend in cinema or cinematic style to slow footage and show the hero easily avoiding literal bullets with flair. However... this was Gen. Feeling like he was encased in molasses and had lead in his shoes, the Library’s Apprentice stumbled forward in slow motion, twisted so his stomach was put out, covered his broken arm as he noticed a charge coming near it, and so did not notice the charge coming to push into his face when he turned his head to see it. It splashed over his nose with the impact and sensation of a liquid punch, and it was a punch from a strongman. Also in slow motion, slow enough that he could observe the reflexive tears exiting his eyes from the hit, he began to fall backward like he was in a slapstick comedy. When the knockback had put him completely off his feet, back parallel to ground, time flowed normally again and he walloped into the sands below.

“Aaauugh...” he moaned, wondering if his nose was bleeding. _Damn_ it hurt.

“Are you okay!?” he heard Youmu calling. He saw no more bullets, only the remainder from her first wave, and knowing that she was paying him a kindness he forced himself up, covering his face.

“Come on...” he spoke in a nasally voice, “didn’t you say you wouldn’t hold anything back?”

“Hmm...” He saw that she looked concerned, but she soon nodded and told him: “Right!”

She focused again, and moved herself right in an instant.

 _It reminds me of Miss Sakuya’s attacks,_ he speculated. _Those were pretty bad, but I think this is worse. I wonder how she does it – magic? My body’s hardly used to moving a lot, let alone like_ that _._

Youmu cut thrice more, and he was able to get through the rest without harm by seeking paths out of the clusters more earnestly. He did note, however, that it was extremely difficult to get himself across from her between waves. He had to kick wind from his feet to force himself even _vaguely_ close to her speed, similar to how he’d pushed himself when fighting Yuuka. According to Master, flight made one faster... He really wished he could fly, though it wouldn’t help him right now, he supposed.

It became his turn to go on the offensive, but... when it did he instantly realized that at the Sanzu River, he had almost nothing to work with. He’d done his counterattack with his natural magic just out of curiosity and pride; he’d forgotten how barren this place was. While there was air there was no wind, while there was water he had a feeling it wasn’t normal considering what the reaper had told him, and while there was sand, it was unusual and he didn’t even know any sand spells in the first place – only “earth”. Furthermore this world or dimension or whatever it was seemed to lack the rays of a sun or moon, so that area of his magic was out as well. So, in short, it was looking like he’d have to rely on his spirit quite a lot in this fight. The fight would thus be quick. His reserves were still relatively paltry, and he’d wasted a bit just attacking regularly before.

He processed this situation very quickly, and saw that Youmu was holding back. She was waiting for him to demonstrate his magic rather than simply firing upon him. For a moment he was a little bothered at the idea of the swordswoman going easy on him, but he then remembered part of the reason for her challenge was to see what he could do as a magician. In fact, she was probably hoping to see his manipulation of elements as a sign that he could possibly manipulate seasons.

So with all things considered, he tried...

[] to cast from the waters of the Sanzu River. It might not work, but if it did it would cost almost none of his spirit.

[] to cast from the doldrum air of the Sanzu River. It would probably take a fair amount of his spirit to move it, however.

[] to cast from the sands of the Sanzu River. A wildcard, really. He’d seriously have to improvise, though it might not cost much spirit, if any.

<>

[X] to cast from the sands of the Sanzu River. A wildcard, really. He’d seriously have to improvise, though it might not cost much spirit, if any.

But... to do this, he’d need to look some things up. He had under a minute to work with.

* * *

Anchor: L7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1257734)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aVMYUdya-X0> ]  
[Battle 1 - Final Fantasy IX OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

“The Sanzu River is unusual!” he declared, throwing his hand up. Youmu squinted and frowned at him, still not moving though her sword was drawn and ready. He then made a plea: “if you have patience, time this pattern out and I’ll show you something good!”

Youmu’s answer was quick. She said, “Fine, I suppose,” in a quiet voice and relaxed her stance. Gen then sent out a pattern that would ordinarily be considered insultingly simple: the first he’d learned when Master Patchouli began instructing him on how to cast directly from his reserves. All it was was a pair of aimed black crystal bullets that crossed back and forth toward the target, while two more were repeatedly sent out to create a kind of “hallway”, forcing his enemy to contend with the initial pair before another would be summoned. Or, this was the theory. Youmu instead dodged the “hall” and slowly walked around Gen in a wide circle, his magic never even coming close. As she marched she observed him, watching him sit cross-legged, take a small manual from his series of books, and start leafing through it with his thumb.

Gen had retrieved _The Simplest Manual of Materials for Starting Magicians_ , a field guide that Patchouli never let him leave without, though he ordinarily found no use for it considering he could learn _much_ more in preparation at the library rather than in the moment. It wouldn’t tell him details on strange elements or substances like the River water likely was, but it outlined common assets, their names in many languages, and how to invoke them with various schools of magic, as well as suggestions for their use. This was written by his Master a hundred and forty years ago when she was a child and learning the arts. She kept it well – it showed only a few years of that age.

“Sand... Sand...” he muttered, “Ah... here.”

He found “S” and then “sand”, and he did a few things next. First he closed the book but kept his thumb as a placeholder, second he pulled the end of his coat forward over his lap and over the shore. He blew errant grains from the cloth, scrutinized it to check if there were any more, and finally pushed the opened book into his placemat-converted robe. He leaned forward to read, and noticed his Master had included what looked to be a rather recent extra notation, glued to the page beside the entry. It read:

_For danmaku under that red-white’s rules:_

_It’s a pain. Manipulating sand means manipulating earth, but if you want to use it in danmaku it has to be used like water. The sand has to be used in a mass, it’s a total pain. It would be fun to make a pattern using every grain as a bullet, but since bullets have to be clearly visible under the rules_ _⤾_

He flipped up the note, seeing that she had begun to write on the page instead.

_using every grain would be cheating. It’s also a pain to control every single part anyway. Summoning it is as easy as anything else – dust, water, salt, etc. – but moving it in a complex form is SUCHAPAIN. That’s why I’ve written a helpful circle on the other side of this page. Can use this to not so much combine water and earth but understand principals of earth used as water. Similar to manipulation ofmud,//————_

She seemed to have begun to run out of space and in her frustration had scrawled randomly a bit. She’d also drawn a small scribble of a despondent, weeping face. Master Patchouli did this very rarely, with notes on problems that she considered irritating to solve. He smirked and laughed through his nose, turning the page over.

“Alright, let’s see...”

He furrowed his brow. Something smelled like cut grass and recently bloomed flowers. Feeling a presence at his back, he glanced up over his right shoulder to find Youmu looking down over the same, eyebrows high and interest piqued. She was swaying every so often to avoid the few bullets he was still summoning. Her sword was plunged into the sand again, and he found the way she gazed at his book to be so terribly endearing it made his chest ache in longing. He closed harshly his eyes and forced his neck left, facing the book again. He opened them to study his Master’s inscribed glyph, wearing a grimace as he told himself internally he didn’t have time to be swooning over Youmu.

“... Brilliant stuff as expected, Master,” he announced, understanding the magic circle instantly once he looked upon it. He had about twenty seconds to come up with a spell card.

Keeping calm, and thankful that his thoughts were clear, he smoothly retrieved a blank slip of paper from an inner pocket and laid it on the page opposite his Master’s glyph. He took out his ink as well, quickly unscrewing the cap while speaking old words. When it was open his enchantment was finished, so when he pinched his fingers together as if holding a pen, ink sought a space between them and formed a point for him to write with. With seemingly jittering, but in truth practiced and precise speed, he sketched below the glyph with his free-flowing pseudo-quill three smaller glyphs that would each instruct spell cards he’d be using. He named one of the three on the paper he’d brought out, and with seven seconds left, he wrote another circle above his master’s glyph, noting on its outer ring three variations. These would be his ordinary patterns. Finally, he whipped and curled little connections from his small glyphs to the greater glyph his Master had made that would act as their foundation. He huffed with approval for his handiwork, dropping the enchantment (so the ink in the air returned to its vessel) and taking up the little manual. He met Youmu’s eyes behind him again, sporting a very slight wince and a somewhat tired smile.

“You should back off, now,” he told her.

In response, she circled about his side with a sideways jump and then leapt backward to where she’d started. She did all this faster than it took him to stand, but in credit to his own kind of speed he was now incanting so briskly and deeply it was hard to tell that what passed from his lips now was language.

Using his thumb he swished his new spell card over the page it was pressed against. He had called for a spell in only three seconds (though his round for an undeclared spell ended about the second Youmu had reset her position) and his throat now hurt. But, of course, he was pleased with himself. He brought the book and card up above his head.

“Swept Earth Sign,” he professed, “‘Topsy-Turvy Roundabout’!”

Under ordinary circumstances what had just transpired would be illegal, and Reimu would have to be notified of a violation. Spell cards were supposed to be all listed out beforehand, and so agreed upon by both parties. However, because this was in the spirit of trust (even between enemies), if both agreed to the introduction of new cards _within_ the match, everything would be permitted. _Though in the first place..._ he thought, _I’m not sure any of that even applies to me anyway._

His paper slip disintegrated, the magic began, and it was mean.

The circles in _The_ _Simplest Manual_ shined orange and the sands around the two duelists shook very lightly. The spell he’d created was a devious one that could only be used effectively in a ground fight. Youmu would not realize this immediately, though.

The young gardener finally began shooting at him without pause, firing strange gray and translucent blasts of magic in a very slightly wavering line which he received without moving. Her phantom half also fired such bullets in a smaller quantity, and she rushed toward him to increase their damage through proximity. Around the magician, and repeatedly, four very large balls of sand shot up from the shore, falling in arcs away from him and smashing apart into the seemingly main bullets of his attack. From above one would be able to see that in actuality an expanding and circular labyrinth was forming, its boundaries being created by calculated, gathered sand. While the walls were short enough for her to fire over, Youmu would have to navigate the maze to dodge it... and it was an easy enough maze to solve, but therein lied the deception.

Rounding a “corner” of approaching sand and turning to find another gap in the barrage, Youmu stepped forward to dash for the opening. Instead of dashing, however, she slipped forward to land flat on her face. The wall she’d been trying to avoid smacked her and began to roll her back to where she was, and while it did so _something else_ caused her to turn over her own head and roll forward. Then, another thing had her turn ass over teakettle backward, her long bloomers on full display. Gen watched her within his peripheral, having sat down again before his still-open ink bottle and begun thinking of how to name his two coming spells.

The disaster of clumsy rolling repeated three more times, until the little white-haired girl was at the border of their playfield. She put herself onto her knees, awkwardly holding the Roukanken in her right hand and touching her temple with her left. Her eyes were spinning.

“Figure it out?” Gen asked in a raised voice.

“Uhhh~... Aahhhh~...” was all she managed to say at first before she realized she had to stand to get out the way of his still-coming spell card. Without shooting at him and without elegance, she hopped left and right through separations in the bullet-sand walls, and eventually there was a change under her foot. With a girlish “Kyan!” she fell onto her posterior, sword aloft and eyes closed in distress. She then whined openly, crying, “What is thiiis!?”

“Strange spells happen; figure it out,” he advised, looking over the new names for his coming cards while ink spiraled his pointer finger. He nodded. They seemed alright.

Standing again, Youmu shook her head hard enough that her hair was lifted, and she slapped her face at her cheek. She looked into the sand maze determined, and reversed her grip on her Roukanken.

Gen stood too, now that his bottle was closed and his cards were ready. He watched the gardener with curiosity, but did nothing else. The way this pattern worked, he couldn’t really move about, so his staying in place wasn’t _only_ a smug display. Youmu started shooting at him again, but was more focused on her feet. She stared at the shore below her intensely, holding her blade above it and seemingly scanning for a place to run it through. Eventually her eyes flashed, and she declared, “There!”

She stabbed the earth and saw that she was now cutting a large and undulating segment of sand that had been shaped like an arrow. It split in two and fell apart like fast melting ice. Looking up, she witnessed other arrows waving on the ground and disappearing after about three seconds. Her expression growing more severe, she realized that this was actually a spell meant to confuse and disorient her. She hadn’t been paying attention, but the presence of these arrows was announced with a little eruption of sand, and the shapes themselves were clear so long as you were looking for them. They would certainly cause her trouble as she tried to avoid the sand _bullets_ , but now that she was aware of them she’d at least be able to defeat the magician’s spell rather than time it out.

“Got it?” Gen asked. Youmu’s answer was to vault over an incoming arrow, bringing her legs all the way up.

She dropped to a foot and skid a few centimeters, kicking off toward an opening in the sand-walls. Swiftly, she sprang and sprinted over arrows and through the maze, concurrently keeping fire steady on her enemy and approaching so she could end this more quickly. Gen was happy with this, and waited for her to wear him down.

Looking rather messy, she did. The spell wasn’t captured, but with just a few seconds left she forced Gen to move into another kind of bullet curtain. For his simple spells, he’d decided to go easy to compensate for the cruelty of his special spells. That said if he could give this variation a name he’d call it “Solitaire Victory” after the free game that came with Windows computers. He sent out three slinky-like columns of sand that “bounced” off the ground and went in random directions, jumps eventually sliding into nothing the farther they went away. You only had to step out the way of the columns, though to increase the chaos the caster would shift positions between shots. Youmu didn’t find this troublesome, and looked relieved for it. It wasn’t long before he had to pull out his second spell.

“Swept Earth Sign: ‘Madman’s Conveyer Belt’.”

One of the two cards under his thumb crumbled into nothingness, and the sand between himself and Youmu burst upward a few centimeters like the precursor to his arrows from his first move. Youmu did not let this similarity go unnoticed, and immediately stopped aiming (though she did not stop shooting) in order to focus on whatever devilry Gen had in store. It was arguably not so terrible, and even a bit uninspired.

The gardener was moved backward on her own. She held up one foot and stared down to see the sand was steadily flowing almost like a river. She didn’t see the point of it, until she glanced around herself to where it was taking her and saw earth jettisoning upward in violent bursts, allowing no safe movement between the blasts. To be brought into this would sting, putting it lightly.

So, she began to jog forward, but intentionally did not run. After all in front of her was a similar wall of danmaku, sweeping over and over in front of her opponent with space enough to allow counter fire to pass, but only that. From ahead and behind, a few single, slow bullets came straight and unwavering across the sands, giving something else for her to contend with. All the while she made sure to keep her pace deliberate, for she felt it was obvious that eventually Gen would—

Yes. He changed the direction of the sand’s flow so that she began to be moved forward. The girl broke her progress, kicking sand upward as she started to hop backwards. And all the while she kept in mind the few bullets coming down and up on this godforsaken belt. She wouldn’t fail. She was _determined_ to capture this one.

The speed of his treadmill wasn’t exactly fast, it was merely fast _enough_ that it would make one worry should they ever start moving in the same direction as the flow. It was a fun spell to watch someone else contend with. He thought, _I might be able to use this with air once I start flying. Could be taxing though... It’s tough to force a change in direction without a special power or at least some footing..._

“Hmm...” with that sound, he began to seriously think about this. He again wasn’t avoiding Youmu’s attacks beyond keeping his cast out of harm’s way (even when he’d been dropped by her first spell card his arm hadn’t felt any pain, but he was still worried over it). In any case, now he was officially showboating. He had come up with some lovely, wicked circles in so short a time, and they were working well... What satisfaction!

He switched the sand’s flow.

Youmu jumped.

He switched it again for her landing.

Youmu slipped and once more planted her face in the sand.

Beside the two, from the direction of the pier, a great laugh was let loose.

Youmu had tried to stop this embarrassment by plunging her Roukanken down for use as a cane... but it hadn’t worked. Instead, she began to grip at sand with her left hand while her right held onto her katana for dear life. The half-human child slammed down her palm to push her head up, spitting and making miserable, livid sounds. She was still being dragged forward by his magic, and seeing this she gave a small roar of frustration, shouting, “Aaargh, jeez! Jeez, jeez, jeez!!”

She jumped back a great distance, or at least she must have jumped since she was one moment on the ground and the next ten meters away. When she landed, so did the sand she had left behind in the air from her sudden move. She brought the Roukanken to her side and sank into a stance. He noticed a piece of paper in her hand.

“Oh,” he said, and he tried to switch the sands again so that she would be backed into the jets of the stuff behind her before—

“Human Sign! ‘Slash of the Present World’!!”

She used a clearing spell.

Youmu blinked out of existence, and when next he saw her she came with whirlwinds. She appeared directly in front of him, floating, almost like she’d teleported through his danmaku barrier, and anger became her. With her sword high as she began to descend, she was looking straight in his eyes. But, he looked away from hers. He had to see what she had done to cause all these wild and assailing gusts.

Again her attack was marked with brilliant white light, but through it he could see that getting here she had _ripped_ through his spell entirely. So easily, the sand had become dust and clouds. Before he could figure out how this was, he grit his teeth. Just as he felt something coming, it came: even slashes run through space itself, and perfectly straight. They swiftly formed, one pair after another, until they were three, whereupon they all started from where Youmu had been and shredded paths toward him. He held his breath, and soon felt it all.

Without mercy the phantom cuts carved into his body. He covered his broken arm, and was easily overwhelmed, feeling hot and slicing wounds across the whole front of himself. He closed his eyes in agony, and just as he did he distinctly felt her spell had ended. He looked again to see the ground, and marks showing that he had been pushed backward an entire meter. His shoes had dragged through the shore and dug his heels down a disturbing amount... He checked his body and outfit and noted that, presently, he looked like someone who had lost a spell card duel. He’d need to rewind his clothes.

As for Youmu, she had again returned herself to her starting position. She had defeated his teasing magic, and was ready to show a counterattack. Gen was not ready. The power behind that explosion of hers went over the limitations of stamina and defense that using a spell card gave him. His hand quivered, as did his legs, and lips, and arms. Really, he was in a bad way. He already felt like he was on his last legs, and in this duel it would be him contending with a final card, not Youmu. He felt he was probably fucked.

But, he smirked, and exhilaration returned to him in spite of the pain. They both looked thoroughly dragged through muck now.

Youmu’s next round was a repeat of her first, just with more density and _slightly_ more complexity. He didn’t have much trouble with it, pelting Youmu with sand while he dodged with his aching body.

She revealed another card and loudly called its name:

“Hell Flame Sword! ‘Flashing Slash Formation of Karma Wind’!”

This one was... interesting, but mercifully not much trouble. It was similar to her first card and again utilized “time distortion” or whatever that was after a period of charging, any distortions serving as a precursor to her slashing again. Though on his way to capturing the spell, many times it came uncomfortably close to his injuries, he nonetheless pulled through and struck a decisive blow on Youmu. Immediately she went into an ordinary pattern.

This one looked more intimidating than it actually was, though this was only because he happened to notice the easy way to dodge it. Youmu cut the air again, causing two large and arched barrages that flanked him but did not aim directly at him, so there was a split to move through between them. She did this twice in quick succession, cutting down and then up, and also crisscrossed flying slashes in-between the salvos to try to throw him off. An extra nicety of this faded blond and blue ball pattern was that the power of the forward attack seemed to create a bursting byproduct of azure danmaku at Youmu’s back like the blowback from a cannon or open artillery. This could only be described as fantastic. Admiring her, Gen kept up with Youmu’s attack after the initial surprise of facing it, seeing that she also had a deep ruby and sapphire variant to the colors (which caused crimson blowback), and soon pushed her into taking out her third card.

“Asura Sword! ‘Obsession with the Present World’!”

Gen made a comment to himself. “Karma, preta, Asura: it’s all Indian,” he muttered. “I’ve gotta ask her what’s up with that...”

This was another red/blue spell, and the first of its sort Gen had ever dealt with. Rather than shooting at him, his opponent created bullets at the sides of the boundary of play. Blue moved from left to right, red moved from right to left, and both moved very slowly. It was most definitely at least _slightly_ bewildering since, of course, his eyes faced front. It was interesting to look at, though, especially when red began to pass blue. He’d like to see it from above.

Like he didn’t neglect to shift sands in his cards, the gardener did not neglect to shift time and speed in hers. Again she gathered power, again she slowed movement and perception, but the results this time weren’t particularly spectacular. She struck at the space in front of her like before, and in doing so shot a minor and mildly frantic stream that gunned for him. He was fairly sure of his ability to keep aware of everything and make it through unscathed, but his worry over his crippled arm proved his damning flaw. When moving to protect it he spun very awkwardly and found his good arm hit instead, which only caused him to spin more. He soon found himself buffeted on three sides while turning round and round, pivoting on his left leg, shielding his left arm, and dangerously close to falling right on his ass. Paired with the damage from Youmu’s erasure, this spell card was wounding him horribly. He realized that despite being an exhibition match, the two opponents here were truly stomping on one another at every opportunity.

Had his mind been any less clear the dizziness from his spinning along with the hurting incurred from all his mistakes would’ve probably made him lose then and there, but thanks to his enemy’s assist prior to their battle, he managed to correct himself, and at least time her spell out. The position of offense returned to him, and he looked over at Youmu before casting anything else. Both he and she were panting heavily and looking ragged. There wasn’t much left for their fight. He didn’t really care who won now, though a primal want deep within him urged him to show the girl up. Youmu huffed and lifted her shoulders, twisting her hands over the Roukanken’s grip.

“Not much longer,” he said, almost out of breath.

“No,” she agreed, sounding the same.

In a silent few seconds they came to an understanding:

Each of their last spells would be delivered with their all, and not quite be the same.

Gen brought _The Simplest Manual_ out before him and cast an undeclared spell, this time only crafting a sheet of danmaku from sand that went from him toward her and had no aim or flair. It was just that: a bullet curtain to be dodged. A breather before the end.

They both felt they needed to be creative to deal with whatever creativity the other had in store.

Or maybe “creative” was the pitfall either was expecting.

Hearts pounding, they each decided:

[] to face the last word carefully, mindful mainly of dodging.

[] to face the last word normally, not letting whatever strangeness they might face psych them out.

[] to face the last word boldly, prepared to take risks if it meant they might win.

<>

[X] to face the last word boldly, prepared to take risks if it meant they might win.

* * *

Anchor: M7

  
[[1]](https://twitter.com/kozou20xx/status/377830335897018368)

* * *

_As they say in the SAS:_ he thought to himself, _“Who dares, wins”._

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zTcbhUqsCjQ> ]  
[Force Your Way - Final Fantasy VIII OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

He was struck with the blow to end his round.

He pressed his final card.

“Swept Earth Sign!” he shouted. “‘The Antlion Beckons’!”

And the earth spun, twisted, and sank.

Gen’s last word created a whirlpool in the sand, spinning clockwise. From the center came volleys of dirt bullets, aimed or just floating randomly over the spinning hell. It gave the impression of some beast reaching for his opponent, spitting, flailing. It was undoubtedly the cruelest spell he had ever conceived, and if Youmu fell during it, she would quickly lose.

But what Gen did not know was that Youmu had the same idea that he had.

Before the spell could even start in earnest, Youmu sprinted forward with added speed from the sand’s rotation and performed a great leap, landing as the bullets began to fly.

Gen, outside the range of the earthen quagmire, felt his jaw drop as he watched what the young girl did. When she landed, tossing a wave of sand, she sank low to slip under an incoming barrage, twisted herself, and hopped backward as a stream just barely passed her by. Then, with her attention on the center of the maelstrom, she took flight.

He exclaimed, “Wha—! What!?” immediately.

But it was a trick of the eye; she was merely demonstrating her exemplary athletic competence. Youmu had jumped to her left and put herself like she was trying to clear a vault. She grazed a line of his bullets all the while, avoiding even the singular grain, until the air and her speed could no longer support her. She turned her focus on him then, and he reflexively took a defensive posture. Her eyes were dead set. With them she told him: I will not simply survive this spell, I will capture it. She slammed her left hand into the sand below, and began to pivot.

A bullet grazed her neck, another two went by and through her legs, and, performing a handstand, she managed to stay still as a curtain passed her by on either side. Having been carried toward him with the revolution of his spell, she was now close.

Youmu bent in on her standing arm as if to perform an exercise, but then thrust from it to push herself high into the air and begin the turn for a back-leaning somersault. Gen lost his voice to the sight, his eyes opening as much as they could to take it all in. These were feats beyond human capability. It inspired in him awe that no magic could.

After Youmu had completed a full rotation, she moved so that her feet were pointed to ground—still in motion and hanging in the air. When she landed, she would do so behind him, and though he knew that he couldn’t tear himself away. The girl put her sword to her waist, eyelids falling and calm of mien. She dropped to the sand at his back, looking at his head, and unleashed her attack without hesitation.

Gen had put in a contingency for if Youmu escaped the core of this pattern, he just hadn’t expected her to escape _in that way_. Orbiting the whirlpool was a circle of sand orbs that rotated fast, waxed, and waned. Their intent was to relay the message “this is too difficult to deal with, so go back into the spin”. When Youmu noticed it, she began shifting through breaks as they just barely came, moving like a blur and still firing.

Gen sustained damage for an excruciating five seconds to just watch her movements, leaping, reversing, glancing for gaps, leaping again, turning only slightly to see where the next space came, and completely falling into a rhythm. She did all this while also moving laterally to avoid the “antlion” bullets erupting from the spell’s center. If he hadn’t already rated her as “numbingly honest”, he’d think to now judge her “deceptively so” for warning him of clumsiness and tripping over his first two spells, only to come out with this display. Rather Youmu was sure-footed, and it was just that he had himself made it seem like she wasn’t.

So, seeing that his spell wasn’t having the intended effect on his adversary, he himself entered the turn of the sands.

“Huh!?” Youmu exclaimed, almost losing the timing for dodging the outer circle for a moment before reentering the swing. Although bullets from a spell card wouldn’t harm the caster, she still hadn’t expected such a move from him. She tried aiming at the magician as he turned, but couldn’t draw a close enough bead on him. He was moving a bit too fast, and his position was regularly obscured by bullets. She felt she had no choice. Closing her eyes (and still dodging, showing how well she knew the pulse of his attack), she determined to deliberately move back into the swirling sands and give chase. Her chase was, however, somewhat unusual.

When Youmu dove in after him, she placed herself before him. The cute half-phantom faced his position, and began to avoid his danmaku while _reversing_. Gen, who was spinning toward her, simply had no idea what to do in this situation.

With sands rushing all around them, and Youmu skillfully dodging everything he threw at her while keeping clear of the center whenever she neared it, the girl roughly brought him down, her phantom half finishing the spell with a bullet. The sands then burst and swelled upward, indicative of a successful capture.

Gen in his rags stared at the sand-bathed Youmu, who met his stare in return. They held this moment for a second, then rushed back to their starting positions.

“Ooh...” came the voice of their red-haired observer, “you’ve only got one chance left, Gen. Good luck, good luck~!”

 _I am utterly incapable of doing anything like she just did._ He made this conclusion while swallowing, following it with _... Well, perhaps I won’t need anything like that..._

_Let’s hope._

He gripped tight his manual, and Youmu readied card and sword.

“Human Era Sword!” she called. “‘Approaching Dissolution’!”

And to his surprise... although she “charged” her power, she did not alter his perception. She did something else surprising, too: while shouting the name of her last word she ran in a flash to get behind him, and then sliced through the ether perpendicular to his position—similar to how she’d done in her first spell and so leaving a foggy blue scar in the air behind her. The surprising part wasn’t this maneuver, of course: it was that she had gone too far and leapt above the Sanzu River.

“Ah,” said Gen.

“Ah!” said Youmu, before screaming, “Ah...! Aaaaahh!?”

Gen reacted with immediacy. He called to the sands and swept them up from the shore down below her feet, binding them well so that they could keep against her body weight. Youmu dropped onto his catcher’s mitt with a panicked expression and tears in her eyes, sliding back down onto the Shigan. Gen smiled with pity and sighed with relief through his nose, and then a blue diamond struck him slowly, and painfully, across the left side of his face.

“Bffwh...!” he spat.

“Oh, uh...!” uttered his opponent.

He fell onto his right shoulder, holding his Master’s manual up and out of dirt’s way. The spell ended.

And he lost.

~~

* * *

Anchor: N7

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/429399)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vtrJMkQ0Z00> ]  
[Ayakashi set 15 〜 春風の夢 - House set of "Perfect Cherry Blossom" (Kuroneko Lounge)]

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t apologize enough!”

Gen had restored his clothing and was now crouched in front of Youmu, who was knelt in dogeza and bowing repeatedly as she apologized. He was forcing the dull air of the Sanzu River forward to blow the sand from her clothes and body. She continued to apologize.

“You only lost because of my mistake! I’m truly sorry!”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a straight tone, “you really screwed up.”

“Yes!”

He sighed and turned his head to look at Komachi standing next to him. He wished he had two useable hands, so that he could rest his cheek into his left one. Komachi responded to his rueful look by shaking her head.

“Well,” she said, “I’m getting back to work.”

And she left them, calling to the next soul in line and beckoning them to her boat.

“My loss, huh...” he muttered, watching Komachi display surprising diligence.

“N... No count?” Youmu suggested in very Eastern-accented English.

He shook his head.

He told the girl, “No, I lost, that’s the end of it,” and stopped fanning the sand off of her, since there seemed to be no more (or at least very little). Then he explained, “Your danmaku was bafflingly slow. Even if I was distracted over your mistake, I should’ve been able to notice it and do something as simple as ‘duck’ or ‘swerve’ or ‘move the hell out of the way’.” He stood, plucked up the back of his coat, and while shaking grains from the end of it said “I didn’t. I lost.”

Youmu finally withdrew from her gesture of submission and brought herself onto one knee, head still bowed. After staying pensive for a moment, she confessed: “I can’t accept this win.”

“Think about me accepting this loss,” he said, flicking his nose with his thumb. Then, he admitted, “Well, you shouldn’t feel triumphant at least, I think.”

“I certainly do not,” she said, glaring at the ground.

Gen looked at her, and then off to the side. He shrugged, and told her, “I suppose you _did_ warn me about you not being used to this sort of fight.”

“It’s inexcusable!” Youmu shouted, slamming the sheath of her Roukanken into the ground.

“But, rules are rules,” he said, and he extended his hand to her, “I’ll learn what you need to know, and tell you it shortly.”

She glanced at him, then back to the sand, and finally breathed out long and forlorn. “Yes,” she eventually said, “at the end of the day, I’ve found one possible path to success. That’s what matters the most.” She looked at him again, her look now thankfully more at peace. She took his hand, and expressed her gratitude once more, “Thank you, Gen. I hope you can help me well.”

He pulled the girl up, trying to not remain conscious of the feel of her hand in his, and huffed. He wondered what time it was...

Gen would help Youmu, and somewhat regret doing so.

But what he wouldn’t regret was that on his return home (after a telling-off from his Master over smelling like sake, fraternizing with kappa, and clearly having gotten into a scuffle) he would finally, after a long time waiting, begin his lessons for flight.

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1nshLT5jv0> ]  
[そして今日も紅魔館の扉は開く - 東方アイリッシュ (Floating Cloud)]]

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1187757)

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	8. Winter, Ante Meridiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter has arrived in Gensokyo, and we join Gen on one of his ordinary days. Under Master's orders, he's to head to the home of Alice Margatroid and the Shrine of Hakurei Reimu. Before that, however, he visits the younger Scarlet Devil in the morning...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.8**  
>  [A8].[B8].[C8].[D8].[E8].[F8].[G8].[H8]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to [https://www.touhou-project.com/](https://www.touhou-project.com/8) Be wary of **spoilers.**

* * *

Anchor: A8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2311983)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgNKWoJs1MM> ]  
[Starting point - まりつみ (maritumix)]

Unlike Gen’s previous adventures, his excursion at the Road of Liminality and Sanzu River was not something with immediate effects and changes to his life. Instead, over time it became more obvious that things were different for him now. For instance, he would sometimes receive letters from Aomu like that of a pen pal, describing her slow progress within kappa society and asking about his progress in the Art. She still hadn’t visited him at Scarlet Devil Mansion, and when he asked her why she’d written:

_I’m working up the courage—I’m still too afraid of that human._

Not the Scarlet Devil, her manic sister, or her powerful friend in the library, but her maid. If you were to take those titles without knowing the women behind them, you might think that the kappa was being ridiculous. However, knowing Sakuya, Gen could understand.

Beyond that, about once a month Onozuka Komachi would find time to visit him, usually at night (so, at least, he was fairly sure she wasn’t skipping work). The shinigami explained that she had become concerned about his potentially temporary status as a human. She’d keep an eye on him until he was dead, and if he decided to become immortal she said she had “schemes” in store for him. Although she always reminded him of his mortality, he found Komachi to be an interesting conversation partner, and at least she didn’t steal anything like the hoyden thief of the Forest. Still, he kept her visits secret. The other residents of the Mansion hated uninvited guests, and he wasn’t exactly usually fond of them either.

Finally, he kept secret the most significant change to his goings-on: his research into manipulating seasons and his frequent meetings with Youmu to discuss and practice their findings (as, thankfully, he’d convinced her to look into matters on her own as well).

Youmu wanted to keep her presence in the living world secret, and she would definitely not come into the library on her own as a guest or otherwise. Coupled with her regular slips of the tongue and suspicious behavior, he was quite sure he was aiding and abetting something potentially... well, _something_ ; perhaps bad. He had figured out her Mistress’s name was Saigyouji Yuyuko, but for fear of what he might find out he neglected to ask his Master about her or look the woman up on his own. Youmu seemed like an earnest, wholeheartedly good girl. He decided to believe that whatever she and her Mistress had planned would probably not be that bad, even if he was sure it wasn’t as simple as making out-of-season flowers bloom.

On this note, he hadn’t entirely come to terms with his attraction to the young girl. He’d at least rationalized it: when he was her age he was fond of girls her age, ipso facto, there was nothing wrong with being a young adult and blushing in the presence of an extraordinarily pretty fourteen year old girl. They were also not far apart in years: he was only just in his twenties. It was fine. One couldn’t deny how adorable Miss Youmu was.

... This is what he told himself without believing any of it.

And like that, autumn turned into winter, the year turned into the next, and January became February. Four months passed without incident, and it came to be the case that Gen had almost lived in Gensokyo for over half a year. And while this time was without incident, it was not without notes...

He performed experiments on Sanzu River water (that his Master already had) and discovered that it was indeed _not_ exactly water, but some sort of “spiritual” afterlife substance.

He spent a pleasant time on New Year’s and was allowed to sleep in his Master’s lap.

He introduced Lady Patchouli to his friend Wakasagihime, and prevented the witch from taking her into the library for testing.

He had his cast removed for a complete recovery.

And, of course, he learned how to fly.

So now it was the start of February, and deep into winter. He had since December begun using his overlong scarf as it was intended, wrapped so that it went around his neck and over his mouth, able to be pulled over his nose if needed. Its colorful tassels often made him look like some sort of human-ctenophore in certain light, and he liked that. Other than this change he now often sported black leather gloves, and wondered if he should get a hat. His hair was now a few centimeters past his shoulders.

Probably more important than any other thing was that Gen had gotten stronger. While he could still be called below average, learning how to fly opened up many more possibilities for him, and bolstered his zeal for magic even more. Really he was absolutely enamored with flight, enough that often after perfecting it he would float through the Mansion’s halls rather than walk them (and if the little sister ever happened by, she’d admonish him for being an idiot). He had also gotten to the point that, unless he was in a truly desperate battle, he didn’t need to worry so much about his spiritual reserves. He still yearned to cast almost everything he could with a boost of his own power like his Master did, but he sadly had yet to reach the level where this was at all viable. Nevertheless, he had a lot more confidence, which brought him to today, and Patchouli’s next assignment.

“Go visit the Hakurei Shrine,” Patchouli had told him the previous night, after dinner, baths, and just before bed.

“... Right now?” he’d asked, worriedly grasping at the front of his pajama shirt.

“No, idiot,” she’d said, glowering, “tomorrow. Why would I send you out tonight? Was that a joke?”

“I am sorry to inform you that it wasn’t a joke.”

“Are you sleepy?” she’d asked, and lifted her hand. He’d stepped forward then, and she’d dropped it on his head. “Listen, okay?” she’d ordered, pushing his head down and still glaring. “There will be no side trips, no lollygagging, no staring off into Gensokyo’s skies with that dumb wanderlust look you get on your bushy-browed face. Got it?” and she’d poked his nose for emphasis, smushing it. “Straight to the Shrine, and don’t even dare touch a youkai book before you do.”

He’d twisted those bushy brows in confusion over this, saying “I don’t usually touch them, but why the warning?”

“I just don’t know what that red-white will do to someone like you, and I think it’s better to be careful of any possibly fatal scenarios.”

Now, having dismissed his alarm-fairy, he sat during the early morning on his bed at Scarlet Devil Mansion, still in his pajamas and still thinking over his Master’s warning.

His nose twitched with remembrance.

_Ah, and..._

“One last thing,” his Master had said, “don’t _just_ head straight to the Shrine tomorrow; make sure you come to breakfast first. I’ll probably have something for you to do in the morning.” She’d then released him and bid, “Alright. Goodnight, Gen.”

 _Man..._ he thought, left hand over the bottom half of his face, and right hand massaging his forearm, _Master smells incredible after a bath. I wonder what shampoo or oils she uses._

With a severe look in his eyes, he decided he would recruit some maids later to discover that.

For now, he cracked his neck and stretched his arms out, flexing the fingers of his non-dominant hand. As usual, he figured he ought to do something after seeing Meiling for his free time. So, what today?

[] Have a chat with Miss Sakuya.

[] Bother Mistress Flandre.

[] Spend time with Mistress Remilia.

========

_Also..._

_What will Lady Patchouli have Gen do before going to the Shrine?_

[] Retrieve stolen books from a certain thief.

[] Pick something up from the puppeteer.

<>

[X] Bother Mistress Flandre.  
[X] Pick something up from the puppeteer.

* * *

Anchor: B8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3058604)

* * *

With that decision settled, he dressed himself with flair, finished the rest of his morning routine, and determined to see the other vampire.

~~

On the Mansion’s highest floor, the Scarlet Devil slept where she could most comfortably watch the moon. Although this was her reason, and she was indeed nocturnal, she often slept through the night rather than the day.

On the Mansion’s lowest floor, her little sister slept where she could most comfortably forget everything. And, although she too was nocturnal, she rarely possessed a proper sense of time, only hardly defining days by the meals she received.

Flandre Scarlet was a particularly dangerous vampire, and she could surely rampage even worse than her elder sister if left to do however she pleased. That would be trouble in today’s Gensokyo, and that was the present reason why the other residents had taken many measures to seal her within the Mansion’s basement. It was not, however, why she stayed.

Mistress Remilia was whimsical, Mistress Flandre was a layabout.

Very rare were the occasions Mistress Flandre became curious about something, or wanted the company of others. A few days after Gen had passed into fantasy, she’d become curious about humans after a pair of them launched an assault on the Mansion. This was despite living over five centuries and never seeing one alive or dead aside from Miss Sakuya (unless they were “dead, and their blood processed as agreeable-looking food or drink”). And despite earning playmates after Marisa defeated her, she still remained inside now, and made no bids for guests.

Mistress Flandre spent most of her time in her room, and otherwise she’d wander the halls without any particular reason behind doing so. Gen was not sure why the girl preferred reticence, but he was curious to know why. He had realized that whenever he saw the little sister his thoughts over her were quick to become worried ones, and not only over his life. Beyond that he would frequently speculate on her situation and relationships (mainly, between herself and the Mistress), and from time to time her past. He was sincerely driven to _know_.

So, he liked to tease her.

He wanted to know whether her quiet and distant ways were the result of personality or something greater, and prodding at her tended to be revealing. She wasn’t likely to just open up or naturally show what might be her true colors, given how detached she tended to be. With that in mind, on this winter’s day Gen proceeded to her room.

At the end of an extensive, vaguely meandering, and red (of course) corridor quite a ways below the earth was the door to that room. It was an almost suspiciously normal door for the Mansion: not large and ostentatious like the doors to the Library—just four-sided, wooden, gilded fancily, and bearing a carving of some fantastic mural like most of the doors here. It was also standard in size, and aside from its queer location the only way to tell this was a _distinct_ door was seeing that it was marked with one of his Master’s seals. The seal was one done to negate physical and magical damage, but ever since Mistress Flandre’s actions a few days after the Scarlet Mist Incident (where she’d escaped by destroying the doorknob and had just... pushed the door open), Master Patchouli had kept the seal deliberately broken (though it could easily be redone). When he’d first come to introduce himself to the younger Mistress, the seal had reminded him of why he _hadn’t_ introduced himself yet. Even now he still feared this vampire; he was just able to steel himself better in her presence after becoming more acclimated to it.

Gen took a breath, and assured himself. He took off his shoes, threw the door open, and strode inside while closing the entrance behind him. At once he announced, “Mistress Flandre!” Then, he moved his head about six centimeters to his left.

_THUNK!_

“I have come for your hand in marriage!”

[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=2Bx4sgOhA9w> ]  
[魔法少女達の百年祭-四重奏 - 東方四重奏 Rose (TAMUSIC)]

He spoke with definite, confident boldness; one hand over his heart and the other straight out before him. Stuck in the wood of the door behind him and wobbling was a chisel which had been flung to where his head was just previously. Within the dark room and sitting atop a pile of bright sheets was Mistress Flandre, who also had her hand extended. She was surrounded by pillows thrown all over, and her bed was bare. She was still in her nightclothes, and she was not amused.

Gen looked at the tool beside his face and observed, “A chisel.”

“What?” asked Flandre, and from her tone he knew she was asking what he was doing there, rather than asking what problem there’d be with her using a chisel.

“To be wed, Mistress Flandre,” he repeated with a solemn, western bow.

Mistress Flandre folded her legs, put her hands around her calves, and slouched—staring at the man in her room and still unamused. She next spread her wings out, and Gen’s teasing veneer faltered under the sight.

The younger Mistress did not have wings like her sister. They extended from her back with as much overwhelming and unanticipated span, but they – or rather, the parts of them connected with her back – looked like black bone and warped shadow rather than the membranous sort that he imagined must be common for vampires. And that was just it: they weren’t “wings” in any common sense at all. They were JUST the “upper” part of an ordinary wing, and made of very unordinary stuff. This alone gave Mistress Flandre a distinctly horrific impression, like thin Eldritch fingers were growing out her shoulders, but the rest of her wing structure was simply... terribly eerie.

Sprouting from the stick-like and burnt-seeming bone of one wing were eight shards of colorful glass, mirroring eight on the other. They weren’t a rainbow, either, and at least the first and last color – faded blue – repeated. When Gen had first seen these shards (or were they crystals?) his immediate impression was to be stunned by the unusual beauty. However, during his time in the mansion, he had discovered that he found Flandre Scarlet’s wings very unsettling. Every color—that clear blue to green, yellow, orange, rose, violet, and a darker blue before the clear variety came again, last—was cold. It was similar to a notorious ice fairy that could often be found by the Lake, but Flandre’s were cold on... well, it seemed to be an “emotional” level as well. He often wondered if her wings had some sort of constant, overpowering effect on humans which activated just from seeing their frigid brilliance. They curved, at once looking like the prettiest ornaments and the most wicked of knives, and whenever she moved they bent in a way that inexplicably reminded him of teeth shifting within gums. They shifted, and when Flandre spread her wings like she was doing now, to stand or kneel before them always made him think she was a second away from swallowing him whole with her entire being.

The little sister lifted her right hand. He winced, feeling a bead of sweat crawl down the side of his face.

But, to his relief, she beckoned him next like she would a dog. “Come here,” she bid, gesturing.

And although he was relieved, Gen quickly shook his head and answered, “No.”

“Come.”

“No.”

“Get over here.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Come on,” ordered Flandre as she brought her wings back down and revealed a fang sharp within a coquettish simper, “you’re proposing? Where’s your ring?”

Gen stared at her, still bowed. After a moment, he swallowed, and slowly straightened his back.

“If I reveal it, you won’t crush its eye?” he asked, referring to her supposed, nebulous method of remote destruction.

“I won’t~,” she sang, the lie obvious on her tongue.

He sighed, bringing his hand into one of his pockets to remove a small velvet box. Resting it on his palm he looked at it, and at once it burst into nothingness like it was never even there.

The little sister gave a shout of “KABOOM!”, and he saw that her lifted hand was now squeezed tight into a fist.

“It was empty,” he informed her.

“This human is gutless and a kid,” the girl observed.

“One day...” Gen began, tracing over where the box had been in his hand with a finger, “... I’m going to have a real ring in one of these; then I’m going to have to demand you compensate me, Mistress Flandre.”

She dismissed his statement with a sullen “Whatever...” and leaned her back into her bedside, staring at the ceiling.

“Good morning, Mistress Flandre,” he said, finally greeting her properly.

“Morning, mroring, moaning, mumumu...” she muttered

“You look beautiful as ever,” he complimented.

“Thank you.”

“May I come in?”

“There’s an order to these things, fool.”

“Yes...? No...?”

Flandre slouched forward again, but was looking at things other than him while she answered, “Fine, fine, come in.”

He bowed again like a gentlemen and stepped forward.

Mistress Flandre’s room was often a mess, though the maids tidied it every day. This morning it was a mess as well, but it wasn’t destroyed furniture, tossed clothes, and dolls with bursting stuffing where heads should be as it was usually. Aside from the fortress of pillows at the center of which she sat watchman, she had what seemed to be many large books left everywhere.

 _She’s been... reading with a chisel?_ Something seemed amiss. He reached for one of the tomes.

“Oi, don’t look!” came a shout, and he saw that Flandre was diving at him.

Although he’d gotten rather good at rapid invocations, no vampire-warding spell he knew could stop her so quickly. He could only put out his arm and hope for the best.

The little blond girl fell onto his hand, keeping afloat and reaching for him. His hand was on her chest, and his eyes moved and squinted with shock and surprise.

“H-Hey!” he yelled. “Mistress Flandre—my hand!”

He fell onto his rear as, indeed, his feeble human strength was nothing against a vampire’s supernatural kind. He was only thankful she merely seemed angry rather than furious as he covered his face and pushed his palm against her, hoping not to feel anything particular through her thin clothes.

“Don’t... look!” she growled, and he felt her grasping at his forearm. He peaked through his left hand’s digits to see that she was bringing his right hand her mouth toward with teeth bared. She opened up, and chomped down on his fingers.

“Oww!” he roared. “I won’t look! I won’t look, listen to me!”

The little sister continued to bite, and again he was thankful. She wasn’t trying to bite them off—just hurt him. She naturally licked at his fingertips messily while grinding down on the joints, and Gen cursed his heart for beating over reasons other than fear.

“Damn... it...!” he cried. “Mistress Flandre, can’t you just...! Agh! S- _Stop...!_ Your... tongue...! Sh... Shit!”

Gen grit his teeth while Flan grit hers even more over his hand. He thought over this predicament, made a decision, and looked into her face. He declared: “I’m gonna look.”

Flandre’s face seemed to darken, and within that instant her wings flared open, riddling him with chills and making him reflexively shrink into himself. Mist began to pour out of her, and her expression told him nothing, which in turn told him she was now properly prepared to kill him. She forced him onto his back.

“Ha ha...!” he laughed, finding no humor in this situation. “You’re embarrassed, Mistress!? Now I’m _really_ curio—! Huh?”

He paused, noticing something was tickling his ear. When he looked up, he saw that it was a curl of shaved wood. In fact, there were quite a few shavings on the floor.

Something came to mind.

Gen began an invocation, and when it was ready he used his own spirit to cast sunlight sparks from his left fingertips that danced up his right arm. When they met with Flandre’s hands, she immediately withdrew, palms smoking. She also stopped biting him, and he took the chance to get out from under her. Barely.

Flandre had made to grab for his collar and only ripped the sleeve of his left arm when he made to block instead. She looked at the cloth strips dangling from her claws, and then looked at him. She was slouched, and the mists coming out of her twisted and billowed such that she appeared to be a wraith, or Death.

“GEN...!” she started, her voice bellowing. “What do you think you’re DOING!?”

“You invited me in, did you not?” he asked calmly.

“ _Haaahh?_ ” she answered sharply. “Are you a vampire, too? Not that we need invitations!”

“Well, I do have a vampire’s blood,” he answered cheekily. He looked for the nearest of Flandre’s books.

“I didn’t invite you to look through my drawers,” she said, and he flinched.

“I-I’m not looking through your drawers! What!?” he fired back, glancing at her briefly before resuming his search.

She summoned bullets: a ring of them, diamond-reds, encircling her and ready to launch.

“I didn’t invite you to look at _those_ , either!”

“Hold it! Time out!” he shouted, stopping his hand over one of the tomes before he could grab it. He brought that same hand up to gesture Flandre pause rather than fire. “Won’t you mess up your room!?”

He was fully aware of the dumbness of implying Flan cared. She spoke to him in steps.

“I’ll mess up you first,  
then the room,  
then the mansion.  
I’ll just break you all.”

And so, mists still swirling around her, she began to attack.

Gen dove for the book he’d been reaching for earlier, the first volley of red bullets screaming over his head and pounding into a wall. With the tome in hand he realized what he’d expected: these things were not books—they were albums.

“S-Stop it already~!” Flandre whined while balling her fists, and clusters of the bullets from before began to fill the space of the room. Gen, still on the floor, looked on in awe at the danmaku. Rather than, a bullet curtain, this was more of a bullet storm. He dashed.

Every bullet in the room was aimed, and aimed horribly true. When Gen ran, they chased, and he saw that the younger sister chased as well. He tested the storm by moving serpentine and found that the bullets would continue on forward if they missed the target, but then round back, which was really quite horrible if you wanted to dodge. It was definitely something that would never be used in a spell card duel. Rounding the room (which, he realized, was astoundingly large), Gen eventually came to Flandre’s bed. He leapt onto it, or rather dropped, his socks pushing into the mattress while he fell flat and watched scarlet blur over his head. He quickly opened the album in his hands and put it, pictures-out, over his face. As he’d expected, the bullets all stopped. He glanced from behind the album’s covers and saw Flandre floating over him with a frustrated look in her eyes and on her lips.

Gen grinned with self-satisfaction and boasted: “I knew it! I _knew_ it! You’re using references to carve something, aren’t you, Mistress!?”

“Gu... nh...” the little sister grumbled. Gen turned the album so he could see the photographs within it, and again what he expected was what was there. These were all pictures of Mistress Remilia, and some of Mistress Flandre.

Thinking, _How warm_ , Gen sat up onto Flandre’s bed, bringing his legs to cross. The danmaku in the air disintegrated into sparkling dust, and the younger Mistress descended to her bed: eyebrows knotted, lips turned into a pout, and exuding a sense of shame. Gen addressed her in her sulking.

“You can sculpt, Mistress?” he asked.

“It’s carving isn’t it?” the girl mumbled, gazing downward. “You just _said_ carving, too.”

He was still looking through the album, now seeking out any photos of the two sisters together (and finding none), when he easily said: “Show me what you’ve got done so far or I’ll tell Mistress Remilia you were looking at her pictures.”

He lifted the album over his head, allowing Flandre to pounce on him without hitting the booklet. She growled again.

 _The young Mistress sure is slender,_ he absently remarked in his thoughts as Flandre tried to climb over him to get the album.

She threatened, “How about I just kill you, Gen!? Then you won’t say anything!”

“I have to admit from your perspective there’s no downside to that,” he conceded.

“Then—” she began ominously, raising her left hand with the palm up.

“Why are you so embarrassed about this!?” he shouted in a panic. “You were like this when I found you painting, too!”

“If I wanted someone to find me I wouldn’t do it in my room, idiot! Idiot! Stupid! Dumb, idiot human!” She began beating on his chest, and he looked down on her with his eyes wide. His expression became severe, and he grabbed one of her wrists as it went for his breast, keeping the album aloft with one hand. He addressed her:

“Lady Flandre,” he said, “you don’t have to worry, I’m not going to tell anyone about this. Not Master, the Mistress, or anyone. I honestly just wanted to see what you were up to. If I really did make you upset, I apologize.”

She continued fuming to herself in silence, but didn’t move to attack him again. After a while, he let go her wrist, and waited for her to speak.

“... I think I’m going to be the one who kills you, Gen,” she told him.

“That seems more and more likely by the day,” he agreed.

“Unless you marry me.”

He clicked his tongue before asking, “Come again?”

“Unless you marry me, I said.”

“You want me to marry you, Mistress Flandre?”

“I don’t,” she admitted, “but if you married me that would mean I married you, so we’d be in love. I wouldn’t kill you then.”

“...”

Moments like this reminded him that Mistress Flandre’s total innocence didn’t only apply to her unbound, remorseless destruction. He brought the album back down and found that he was focused on the side-tail tied to the right of Mistress Flandre’s hair from his perspective. He wanted to brush it aside, and when he realized that, hr blinked harshly.

What the hell was he thinking?

Not even flustered like he often was around Youmu, but simply, largely, deeply confounded, Gen politely backed himself away from Flandre and set the album down between them. He let out a sigh, smirked at the girl, and asked now rather than demanding:

“Can I see what you’ve whipped up today?”

Flandre was touching her hair. She glanced at Gen while pinching it, before answering, “Fine, I’ll show you.”

Something he’d discovered about Flandre Scarlet was that she was extremely talented, but practiced few things. During his half year at the mansion he’d found her playing a piano beautifully, creating immense structures with impeccable balance (often cards, sometimes chess pieces), stitching together lovely hats, painting life or imagination, and unicycling. Furthermore, piano besides, she could play the violin, viola, cello, harp, and several kinds of horns, all at a professional level. She seemed to participate in these activities with little interest, and wasn’t engaging them out of whim but rather boredom. Whenever he asked her what she was doing during these undertakings, she would almost always answer, “Wasting time.” She rarely played the same instrument twice, and if she was crafting something it was never the same something. Now she had been wood carving. Moving to her pillow fort and going under the bed from there, she withdrew her latest work, and showed it to Gen with a terse “Here.”

Gen’s eyes shined upon another Flandre marvel: a striking bust of her sister in wood, still rough due to his interruption, but the skill and beauty of the carving was nonetheless evident. It was a figure of Remilia Scarlet looking askance as wind swept over her hair. Her cheeks and other features were noticeably angular, but Flandre had taken the most effort in capturing her older sister’s daring, loving, charming smile: only almost slight, clearly pleased, and with a fang peeking down from the upper lip.

“How do you even _do_ this, Mistress Flandre?” Gen asked as Flandre passed the carving over to him for his closer examination.

“I think about what to do, then my hands do it,” she explained. “It’s like walking.”

“Some way to say you’re talented...” he remarked, feeling over the wood-Remilia’s sculpted hair. The attention to detail the little sister had was bewildering. “I think something like this is beyond talent, though,” he admitted.

“I wanted to—...” Flandre only began her statement, and Gen had a feeling how she’d intended to finish it.

“Were you going to put it beside your bed and have Master Patchouli provide lighting for it?”

Flandre’s mouth hung slightly open, exposing her fangs, and she blushed from cheek to cheek and ear to ear, entirely scarlet-faced. She was looking off to nowhere as usual, but now she was also twisting her eyebrows.

“These albums smell like the Library,” he explained, “and I recognize this as wood Miss Sakuya procured for Master recently. So, the Mistress keeps her family albums in the Library, huh...?” He looked at Remilia’s face in his hands and smiled a smile to reflect it, considering the fact.

Then, he suddenly frowned. Weren’t vampires unable to be reflected in mirrors? Wasn’t reflection at least a part of how photos worked? Then again, the Mistresses didn’t seem to entirely fit the myths. For instance, Mistress Remilia kept crucifixes and crosses around and used their image in danmaku almost as if to mock the idea that she could be harmed by them. And, just earlier, Lady Flandre had told him they did not need invitations to enter homes. Accepting the nonsense, he looked up to address that Lady again.

“So, you wanted to keep it a secret from Mistress Remilia and only told Lady Patchouli about it? Couldn’t trust Sakuya?” he asked.

“God couldn’t trust Sakuya with secrets,” she told him plainly.

“That’s true,” he agreed, handing the bust back to Flan, “but it’s a shame Mistress Remilia doesn’t know how much you care.”

Flandre recoiled in horror. “C-Care!?” she uttered, baffled. “About that girl?”

He determined she wasn’t simply in denial, so Gen asked his next question seriously:

“Why else would you want her watching over you while you sleep?”

“I don’t _care_ about her, I love my elder sister! Caring is thinking about someone or something forever, and love is just, like, you know!”

Flan moved her arms with great motions while frantically explaining herself, moving the partial statue of her sister this way and that as a consequence. Eventually she glared at it, then rushed over the side of the mattress to put it back under her bed. She returned to him and emphatically stated: “It’s love!”

Gen was surprised.

He understood her distinction.

Remaining unexcited in his tone, he acknowledged, “I see. You love Lady Remilia.”

“She’s my older sister!” Flandre declared this as an answer.

“Well I think the Mistress would like hearing that—”

For the third time, Flandre launched herself at him, and with this instance put him in a terrible place. The younger Mistress had locked him down in possibly the worst way she could.

Her arms were outstretched to grab a hold of his, and put them down behind his head.

She leaned in very close (perhaps unintentionally, and just from positioning herself like this).

And finally, she was straddling his stomach.

Her side length of hair fell down over his shoulder. He kept his gaze on her eyes.

“Gen,” said the younger Mistress, “you’re very something, aren’t you?”

“Clarify?” he requested.

“Something something.”

“Something... clever?” he wagered.

“Not really,” she admitted, and he grimaced. “How old were you? Twenty?”

“A bit over that.”

“I’ve been alive for over five hundred years. I’m not a child.”

For a moment his eyes wandered to the place where she was sitting, and he quickly walked them back to again meet her stare. She continued.

“You’re something... something ‘bold’, maybe. ‘Foolish’ maybe.”

“Not the first time I’ve been called these things,” he confessed, and realized his voice had begun to waver just a bit.

“I really mean it,” she said, and she pushed at his arms, forcing together his wrists. He winced, as this pressed bone pushed against bone. “How does a human get this stupid in just half a year?” she continued. “You were always stupid, but now you stupidly think you can tell me how I should live, or how my sister should live, or anybody. When did you get so bold? Is it Patchouli’s doing? Elder sister’s friend?”

“I’m afraid it’s simply just a bad habit, Lady Flandre,” he admitted, smirking. She frowned at him and glowered, and he realized he was too close to her. Her cold touch, proximity, fragrance, and loose gown were getting to him wrongly. While he didn’t want to, reason told him to retreat.

“Kill your habit before it gets you killed. Maybe today, now...” she whispered, and she began to lean down closer to him, pressing her body into his. Sirens went off in his head, but before he could shout at the girl she continued with a dangerous statement: “You know,” she began, speaking quietly beside his ear, “I’ve never drunk blood before. I’m kind of... feeling like it right now.”

At moments in life where a mortal realizes that their situation is unique, helpless, and yet they are still fully physically and mentally capable, profundity comes upon them. They don’t comically think “oh, I’m going to die” or coolly think “this moment will mean my life is changing course”, they think in white noise and can hear their heart beating in their ears. Their sensations all increase, seemingly in some attempt from the mind and body to give them all means to discover how to escape whatever it is barreling toward them, and sensible retrospect is granted on everything they’ve ever done.

So Gen faced this, body cold with sweat, and he understood that if he let Flan bite him, he could very probably die. However... he was so lucid through the adrenaline and panic coursing through him now that he also understood:

**This was intimate.**

Mistress Flandre had drunk blood before, but it seemed not directly. Miss Sakuya always gave her tea and cakes and other things with human blood within them. She did not know humans. She must have not consciously bit into one’s neck and sucked their life force straight them. In that case, Gen would be the first. He wasn’t dumb to metaphors.

The mind-numbing thing about all this was that, undoubtedly, he _wanted_ her fangs in his neck. He also _really_ , _really_ didn’t. While his forehead sweat frigid with the fear and anticipation of imitate demise, other parts of him were heated. Flandre put her cool cheek to his to get better access, and he grew all the more hotter.

Through the white noise of his mind he thought only a single, crystal-clear word:

_Fuck._

Flandre opened her mouth over his neck, and he could strongly feel his heartbeat. Terrified, anxious, disordered, and aroused he

[] refused Flandre’s bite with all his power.

[] allowed Flandre to bite him.

<>

[X] refused Flandre’s bite with all his power.

* * *

Anchor: C8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/802426)

* * *

... The problem was: he had either too little or too much power to use here, and quickly.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aGOFOP2BIhI> ]  
[ぽるた～がいすとの暇つぶし – Cherry Phantasm (Silver Forest)]

Flandre was at the ready and at his neck, her strength was well beyond his and kept him down physically, and any magic he could incant he could, again, probably not incant quickly enough. Even if he could cast something here the possibilities were:

  * A running water spell of some kind, but with their closeness he’d have to soak her, which would cause other problems.
  * A weak sunlight spell to have her unhand him... but then she’d very probably bite him regardless.
  * A strong sunlight spell, which could be potentially disastrous, or at least too much of a retaliation for his liking given the circumstances.



He wasn’t sure if a garlic spell would help either, not that he knew any...

And he didn’t consciously plan any of this. All possibilities arose and were considered in a second that had been split. So, with great concern and her tongue moist on his skin, he forced his head forward and bit the vampire’s ear.

“Hyan!” she moaned, blushed, and flinched, and most importantly her hold on him weakened. He brought his arms back down and grabbed Flandre’s shoulders, swinging her left and onto her back and getting himself over the top of her. In the moment, he didn’t recall that pinning her down was pointless, and she could easily break out of any hold he put her in; his emotions were just high over the knowledge that he was no longer facing a dead end.

“Watch it, vampire,” he told her, abandoning respect, “you haven’t even had breakfast yet. Don’t fill yourself on me. A-A-And furthermore,” he proceeded, his confidence shaken, “I-I-I-I’m e-extremely uncomfortable with th-this!”

He tried not to remain conscious of his body, only unable to deny the warmth in his cheeks signifying blushing. He didn’t want to acknowledge that the little girl had turned him on. He looked into her own flushed face. She was breathing heavily and her tongue had slipped down over her lower lip. Slowly she returned it and closed her mouth, parting her lips once for a soft sigh. One of the straps of her nightgown was—

_Nope._

With this thought, he unhanded Flandre Scarlet and scuttled to the edge of her bed, hand over his heart and gripping through his layers of clothes. This was much too much sudden eros. Was this just how vampires were? He did know them as possessors of supernatural, mythically sexual charm, and he was only a step away from falling in love with Mistress Remilia just hearing her voice back when he’d slipped into Gensokyo. He hoped this was just an un-subtle trait of vampires, but he knew that even if it was, his reaction had not entirely been because of it.

The younger Mistress rose to her knees, looking dazed. She held her stomach, noting “I’m hungry.”

“Miss Sakuya will be by s—” he stopped, as he’d noticed her strap was falling farther, and he could almost see more than he felt he should see here (not that he wouldn’t like to). He flew over to her and quickly brought the falling thing back over her shoulder, continuing with: “will be by soon, s-so just wait.”

Bringing his hand back from her, Gen deflated, closing his eyes, sighing long, and sinking his posture. It seemed that Flandre’s vampiric instinct had passed, though if what the others said was true, it was probable that she’d kill him in the next few moments to “eat”, but would only vaporize him with her power instead, thus unable to drink his blood. He had to depart.

He went to the bedside and swung his legs over the thing, telling her, “I’ll be taking my leave now, Mistress Flandre. Sorry for bothering you.” He paused as he made to stand, and then added, “I’m also sorry for suggesting anything about you and your sister. I do know that she loves you as well, and in my naivety I often hope that I can do something for the two of you.” Closing his eyes, he turned his head to speak over his shoulder, telling the girl: “After all, I’d be dead if not for this Mansion and its Masters.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Flan was gone. Next he realized she was below his gaze, having crawled to the space behind him. She was looking at him with her worrying eyes, and he looked back, dearly hoping this was over.

“I accept your apologies,” she said, to his surprise, “I’m sorry for molesting you.”

His body stiffened and he refused to answer that.

“Say, Gen,” Flandre continued, “why do you propose to me so much anyway? Is it just teasing, or is there even a bit of honesty in it?”

Gen considered this in silence for what seemed to be several minutes. After that, he confessed:

[] “It’s all in jest.”

[] “It may not entirely be untrue.”

<>

[X] “It may not entirely be untrue.”

* * *

Anchor: D8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2860262)

* * *

Flandre gave a thoughtful sound and observed him closely. He hadn’t ever considered his pestering of her in any way seriously, but examining his actions and feelings, he could tell he probably wouldn’t mind extending actual romantic gestures toward his second Mistress. He wouldn’t do so, as she was the sister of his first Mistress, somewhat the ward of his Master, and still frightening to him, but he knew that without these weights on his reasoning, he could fall in love with Flandre.

“Hmmmmm...” the vampire moaned again, leaning away from him and sitting up. “Alright,” she said with finality, “you may leave.”

“Then, please excuse me,” he returned to politeness in his address, and made to escape this lion’s den. As he closed the door behind him, a realization slowly crawled into his mind, causing him to furrow his brow. He shut Flandre’s door, put back on his shoes, and then stood still with his hand left on the doorknob. It was a poor revelation. It was not something readily acceptable.

Gen realized in silence: he had no apprehension over his second Mistress’s immature figure.

~~

* * *

Anchor: E8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2090587)

* * *

The Forest of Magic.

Gen had been sent here enough that he only _sometimes_ got befuddled wandering this fairy-tampered wood. Though that was the case, he still hadn’t gotten entirely used to its thick, almost poisonous atmosphere, and was thankful that the winter season thinned it significantly.

The forest was presently a bramble of shining white, as snow had fallen relentlessly over Gensokyo. While it was indeed easier to breathe here now, it was also now easier to lose one’s way as everything was painted in this same blinding color. Furthermore those fairies that could only play during this time of year were having the time of their lives casting more snow and frigid air. With cold nipping his forehead and ears, Gen walked through the maddening chalk-shaded branch, boulder, and trunk corridors. He refrained from flight to avoid the cold of the open air and winds, and instead kept keen on the few landmarks he always knew, and aware should he ever feel that his direction was suddenly or even subtly changed.

He was here today on another assignment from his Master, but it was an unusual one for her. Master Patchouli wanted him to return to the Forest of Magic to see someone he did not see often—in fact, they’d only met once. He was to see Alice Margatroid, the Seven-Colored Magician, and receive from her a magnifying tool his Master wanted. Apparently Patchouli had, about a month prior and under a strangely giving mood, allowed the puppeteer to borrow a book from the Library for a time. Now she wanted something in return for the favor, and she imagined the other magician would be accommodating. It was only to be lent, after all.

Meanwhile Sakuya would be off to get books back from Marisa, or rather attempt as much. The head maid had taken a different path from his at the entrance of the forest, and wished him well. There was something incredible he admired about Miss Sakuya: whenever she set off to do something, she gave the impression that she would surely get it done, even if it was something as futile as making that little forest-girl return stolen items. It was more than confidence: it was certainty. While she was capable of failure, that assuredness of “self” had to be very helpful when moving through the lands of Gensokyo, defined by strife and nightmare. He wished that determination and poise in himself.

But... poise was hard to maintain when one struggled with moral distress.

“Haaah...” he sighed another time, having sighed copiously since Sakuya left him. He had too much on his mind.

Before he’d set off from the mansion, he’d had breakfast as always in the library, and during that his Master had observed his torn sleeve. He hadn’t remembered his torn sleeve. He froze up over his torn sleeve.

Flandre ruining his clothing was somewhat common. If she was in something’s presence, she tended to break it. When he explained that his outfit’s damage was due to an encounter with the little sister, his Master (and Sakuya, who was there as well) accepted the explanation. However, his Master (and Sakuya, who was observant) did not neglect to notice his hesitance to admit the cause, nor did they neglect his reddening cheeks upon his recollection.

“Mistress Flandre?” Sakuya had asked with an amused tone, in a way one might ask “Her?”

Separately his Master sounded and looked disappointed, saying, “The little sister...” and pinching her nose bridge.

He’d insisted nothing happened between them, but shaking her head Sakuya informed him thus: “The little Mistress is passionate, and more direct than our elder Mistress. I can understand you catching one another’s eyes, Gen.” But, she did tell him, “I suggest you take caution with Mistress Flandre nonetheless.”

 _I feel there’s nothing to be cautious over,_ he thought now, _I only care about the girl, nothing more..._

That was, aside from attraction.

Now _he_ pinched his nose bridge.

Master Patchouli and Miss Sakuya both had concerns over his being interested in Flandre as a person, or in a sense of romance. They did not think twice about his interest in her physique, and indeed never mentioned it. For the first in a long time, Gen began thinking about modern Japan again.

He had to admit it: he possessed the so-called Lolita complex. It was just something he’d never considered because he never had reason to consider it. He had been a university student of literature, he had mostly spent time on hobbies such as occult research and computer games (mostly western), and he didn’t watch anime... though he did read manga somewhat often. He had almost no exposure to children, in provocative situations or otherwise. And, to the benefit of his mind, he was not _exclusively_ interested in young girls. Master, Miss Sakuya, and Miss Yuuka were all women regarding whom he could confidently answer: “yes, that woman is gorgeous, and I would most certainly embrace her”. He _used to_ only think of his Master in an entirely pure sense, but in these last months he felt he could no longer deny her gorgeous, shapely, and _awesomely_ exquisite—...

He ended this line of thought, finding himself standing still on a trail with his hands up and a smirk on his face. The smirk melted, curdling into a scowl, and he began to chastise himself. This was why he had told himself half a year ago: no entertaining of lascivious thoughts. Distracting, damning... as any man, his basic desires... were basic.

He marched on and returned from the tangent in his head. At the end of things, there were only three women he had ever been attracted to _and_ felt something toward that was more than base desire, and they were Miss Youmu and his two Mistresses (he could claim otherworldly tomfoolery all he wanted, he nearly pledged his adoration to the Scarlet Devil during their first meeting). He had to admit it... along with muscular strength and cuteness that started fire in his heart... he liked his women petite.

His head was against a tree.

 _Geeeen..._ he thought, eyes wide, _you’re a..._ shameless _deviant and an incorrigible reprobate._

He pushed himself from the trunk with one hand and spun back onto the path to Alice’s house. The truth? All of his concerns... were trifling. But, they were concerns that kept him reasonable—“normal”, in the abnormal world. Strange as it was, it was a part of him that he felt he had to keep to know that he was not from here. He nowadays rarely entertained the idea of going home, or that he had another home at all. So, remembering his culture, so different from Gensokyo’s...

... even if it ripped him apart, he felt he needed it. At least—

“What’s with that way of marching? Planning an assassination?”

A woman was addressing him up ahead. He’d been looking only to the ground at his feet. Lifting his head, he saw her bundled up in white and blue, with four dolls floating beside her and carrying bundles of sticks.

... Alice.

“The target is me, right?” she asked, thoughtful, playful. “I was wondering when that Library would take revenge against me.”

“You mean ‘Librarian’, right?” he said in response.

“Have I misspoken? I meant to say ‘Library’.”

“Then... I guess you haven’t. Quite rude, aren’t you.”

“She just stays in there all day... Libraries don’t move either, right?” Alice gestured with her head for him to follow along as she went toward her home. He obeyed, stuffing his gloved hands into his pockets. He answered her while they walked.

“I wonder if Master would like being called a ‘library’...”

“It’s one of her titles,” Alice briefly noted from over her shoulder, “I was only half-teasing.”

“Really? I only know her ‘Knowledge and Shade’ title.”

“The Unmoving Great Library,” Alice told him, making her puppets nod in agreement, “Does she bathe in there?”

“Say more like that and she really will send an assassin after you... She bathes.”

“Oh? You aren’t here to kill me?” the girl asked, then she delivered to him a wicked grin. “And here I was planning to trap this little outsider and use his bones for my dolls.”

“I came on an errand,” he answered, ignoring her empty threat. Alice’s lips went from a smile to a shape of surprise, and she said:

“Oh my!” pausing, and letting him get nearer to her. “You’ve grown a spine since I last saw you!”

“I have grown three quarters of a spine,” he clarified, coming up beside the puppeteer and puffing white breath up from behind his scarf.

She put her thumb under her chin and fiddled with her lower lip, knitting her eyebrows before voicing her latest thought: “I see...” she began, “she _does_ bathe, does she?”

“Oi.”

“It’s an old Gensokyo pastime,” Alice dismissed him with a chuckle and waved off his concern. She continued walking and explained, “I’m sure even you’ve done some banter in the seven months you’ve been here.”

“You’ve been counting,” he noted, following.

“You’ve been here for seven months,” she replied, holding her hands up and open. “Seven is a small number, Gen.” Dropping her hands she increased her pace. They were near her home now, and the puppeteer was openly in good spirits. She sent her wood-carrying dolls to open the front door out ahead of them, and turned to face him with a bright smile. “A belated hello, by the way,” she offered. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?”

He huffed at this, replying, “You just said seven is a small number, no?”

And Alice chuckled again.

“See?” she said. “A Gensokyo pastime.”

~~

* * *

Anchor: F8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/357873)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00r7fyWES88> ]  
[魔女達のジグ - 東方アイリッシュ (Floating Cloud)]

“Well, here you are. That’s really it?”

Alice placed a small and bronze-plated cylindrical device in Gen’s hand. They were now in Alice’s fire-warmed home, her puppets having stoked the hearth and stowed away the firewood. With a quick onceover, the Magician’s Apprentice saw that it was probably the magnifier his Master wanted.

“That’s really it,” he told her, “I guess it’s been long enough since your prank that her blood’s come down from boiling.” Turning the tool in his palm, he wondered aloud, “What exactly is this, anyway? What is it for?”

Alice, having prepared some tea, moved to a table by her window while she answered. “It’s one of my loupes,” she said, having a seat, “I have quite a few for use on dolls’ finer details but that one is special. Its lens is made of meteorite glass—not glass formed from a meteorite strike, mind you, but glass produced from a rock that came from space.” She shrugged and drank her tea, following after with: “Honestly, it’s rather useless. I only have it for conversation and admiration. I imagine Patchouli must want it for some obscure fancy of hers. How exactly do you two accomplish anything when you don’t _focus_ on anything? Jacks of all trades will ever be masters of none.”

Before answering, Gen looked through the ocular. Indeed, it was almost completely opaque glass, bearing no obvious function at all. He wrapped the thing in a cloth he’d brought with him and pocketed it before turning his gaze to the puppeteer.

“Not all trades, Alice,” he said, moving to sit across from her and take up the cup she’d set for her guest. “After a hundred years and seven months, respectively, Master and I still see little reason in applying magic to puppets.”

Alice pulled her cup away from her lips, winced, and gave a quick shake of her head. “Ach,” she said, “biting.”

Quiet came between them as they both relaxed. Gen was surprised he _could_ relax here. Alice’s home was still a skull- and limb-filled horror show, and there were silent dolls with lifeless stares along the walls, above the rafters, et cetera... He thought now, _It’s still weird, but perhaps not disturbing._

He tugged his scarf down from his face and drank from his cup. Red tea this time. Allowing himself to taste it, the remark came to mind, _I sure drink a lot of tea these days... It’s been a while since I had any Japanese tea, though._

Sakuya’s experiments had no origin other than madness.

Alice warmed her nose with the steam of her cup and her gaze drifted to outside the window, above. Her eyebrows changed level, and she closed her mouth. He followed her eyes and saw a branch shaking snow off of itself, as if something had just leapt from it. That was probably the case.

“Right, you’re a human magician, Gen,” Alice mentioned abruptly.

“You remembered!”

“Do _you_ remember?” she asked, eyeing him. “My gesture from before. You’re very dear to me.”

“Ah yes, the mohair of chicanery:” he acknowledged with a thoughtful nod, leaning his cheek into his knuckles, “symbolizing the sentiment, ‘I appreciate that I can mess with you’.”

Alice tilted her head only slightly and asked, “Were you disappointed?”

“I was relieved. Anyway, what are you bringing that up for all of a sudden?”

“I was wondering how much you’ve improved since we met last.”

“What, you want to fight?” he wondered.

“I didn’t say that,” Alice countered, following with: “I do, but I didn’t say that.”

Gen simply nodded, and Alice went on.

“What’s Patchouli taught you? What have you learned?”

Gen set down his cup.

“Many things,” he told her. “It’s gotten to the point that I don’t entirely fear lesser youkai should I ever be traveling, and I’ve defeated quite a few with no help. More importantly, aside from my skill and my power, I’ve at last learned how to fly.”

“Ohh, isn’t that nice?”

“It is,” he agreed with a gesture.

“Patchouli had a ton of spell cards last I checked. Do you?”

“I have a fair amount, yes.”

“Are any of them _good_?”

He opened his arms in confidence. “Would you like to find out?”

She leaned in, elbows on her table and chin in her palm. “As a matter of fact I would.”

* * *

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1421682)

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[] “Then, may I have this dance?”

[] “... Actually never mind, it’s too cold.”

<>

[X] “Then, may I have this dance?”

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Anchor: G8

  
[[1]](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/42970215)-(#34)

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And Alice put her hands to the table to push herself up, giving the answer: “Oh, absolutely.

“I won’t go hard on you, but I won’t go easy either.”

~~

“Aagh, I shouldn’t have done this. Jeez, it’s cold. _Damn_ it’s cold.”

Gen was in the skies above the home of Alice Margatroid, shivering and complaining. His posture was weak and spoke nothing of confidence.

“You’re all bundled up like that and have a woman’s length of hair and you’re _still_ cold?” Alice asked, also flying, but seemingly hardly cold.

“I’m _flying_ while it’s _snowing_ , Alice. First time, too. I’m not used to this.”

“Get used to it, it’ll toughen you up.”

“Hold on—”

He spoke magic into his hands, and pulling them away from his face fire was born. It poured down and over his fingers, swirling around them, his thighs and his feet. Flame ran a course above his body, draping his shoulders too and altogether warming him, but not burning in the slightest. He closed his eyes, his eyebrows graciously bending. With a sigh, he gave an evaluation: “Nice...”

“What’s that?” his opponent asked, flexing the digits of one hand and using the other to trace over the body of one of her dolls in examination.

He answered: “A little experiment. Master Patchouli ordinarily refrains from using it but the elements of Western magic include ‘air’, unlike those of Eastern. Coating that over the element of flame, I can feel like I’m before a fireplace, even out here. I’m sure it only really works on these winter days, though. I know how to do it, but changing temperature with raw magic is not too simple.”

Alice remarked on this with a sound of vague interest. Then, she commented on his choice, saying, “That won’t help you get used to being out in the cold.”

“It’ll help me now. Hey, just for you, I’ll fly to the Hakurei Shrine after this.” Now warm, Gen brought himself to a better stance, pinching one of his thumbs and smiling behind his scarf.

“You can just call it ‘the Shrine’,” Alice informed him. She let go her doll and hid all her puppets behind her back. Folding her arms again, she said, “So, you’re going to the Shrine are you?”

“Master’s orders,” he revealed.

Her smile became sympathetic. “It’s too bad I’ll be sending you to meet the Shrine Maiden in tatters.”

His became smug. “It’s convenient you’re right here to tailor your clothes after I’m done with you.”

Alice looked proud, readying her arms and fingers. “Gen...” she said, “I like that confidence.”

“Thank you,” he replied with a hand out to her. Next opening his coat to display his tomes he proclaimed: “Let me show you why it’s deserved.”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TaoHZIW3MfA> ]  
[バトル！幻想少女 – 幻奏演舞 幻想人形演舞MusicCollection (FocasLens)]

Thus the play began.

The true spirit of danmaku, and the full breadth of its qualities, could only be known on a battlefield utilizing all axes. Gen somewhat knew this before his flight training from just watching duels, and could always feel something missing from duels brought to ground. Ascending for him brought epiphany as well. Patterns came to him much more easily.

Tangential to that, he was a little disappointed that his natural airborne movement couldn’t be categorized as “fast”. Like his Master, he was a bit gentle to turn and bank, and his pursuit speed was just slightly more sluggish than the average. Patchouli told him: in regards to flight and the speed of it, innate ability often took the highest precedence. Speed and maneuverability could be improved, but beyond discovery and basic mastery, upgrading one’s capabilities of flight was a numbingly tall order. At the very least, someone in the air almost always beat out one on foot; even the Library and her Apprentice were so capable.

And so, he faced Alice’s first, familiar, undeclared spell. First she scattered what looked like ice, then she fired two kinds of red rings in fours, and with all these varieties Gen had no trouble. He saw where they would go and steadily moved out their way. And, with a grimoire he’d detached from his belt floating behind him, he fired a steady and rapid stream of black and white diamonds in couples, drawing from his own spirit to empower them. Alice received his counterattack with satisfaction.

“I’m glad to see you’ve improved,” she mentioned when he pushed her into another round. Finding a card in her pockets, she announced: “Now, a better spell.”

She once again showed him “Benevolent French Dolls”, however the maneuver included two more dolls than he remembered. Bullets were again fired and again multiplied twice, ending in a colossal and crimson sphere around the other magician. Back during his first spell card duel, this one had surprised him, and he’d failed it in an embarrassing manner. Furthermore it had been essentially flat... This was different.

It was fun.

From underfoot, overhead, and his front Alice’s magic ascended, descended, and charged. While it was nothing to avoid, it still felt almost like dodging red rain flying every which way, and slipping past it all built a whimsical flurry in his chest. With an open grin, he pointed at Alice, his shadow and light assault following through while bullets passed his ears, under his arms, and missed his calves. He laid into her. He captured the spell, and began to incant.

Gen crafted a pattern he had practiced, next. He couldn’t use it to its full extent just yet, as its full extent was a bit complex, but he could try something similar for a lower degree of skill.

_Four great, shining, beams of sun and spirit, turning in a half circle around you, and then four more turning opposite. Force your enemy into a hallway of light, and then... Right! With your hand like a gun, send a circle from your fingertip! Another! And another! Keep moving... and fire! Fire!_

He made to glide while filling the sky with scarlet fireworks, and he gave a “Yeah!” to cheer.

Alice slipped through the sorcery, keeping close to his lasers and waving between the bullets. Watching him, she mumbled, “Hmph... familiar, isn’t it?” She directed her dolls to stop the mirthful magician and wondered aloud, “Will you show me a familiar card, too?”

And he did, not hearing her commentary. “Fire Sign!” he called. “‘Agni Shine’!”

It was the standard version of the advanced spell his Master had used to try to kill him when they’d met. Frankly, he could not get enough of its use.

Patchouli had told him that his affinity for magic was heroic, and on telling him that she’d made a very bitter face. Essentially, he would naturally excel with “triumphant” spells of light, love, and the vanquishing of evil (which meant Marisa might be jealous of him should she ever find this out). He did not feel heroic, but according to his Master his affinity likely had to do with whatever the reason was that his family name contained the kanji for “wisteria”, a flower symbolic of such virtues. She found it ironic that a soul inclined to nobility would be used for dark arts. She was right; he glowed in experiencing this powerful feeling, with fire spreading from a book at his hip.

Like Marisa, who was inclined toward water and yet played with love and stars, he knew inclinations were not fates. While in theory he could become a shining champion of justice with some ease, doing so would mean treading the sea rather than diving deep into the ocean that was sorcery. So he moved slow through the sky, bringing flames out his noble soul and having them encircle him in conic shape before encroaching on his opponent, measured but overwhelming. To dodge this as well was an enjoyable thing thanks to his Master’s good sense, but he was eager for the day he could advance this spell to its limits.

Alice had a fair look on her face as she thought about the mimicking magician in front of her and made her way through the pattern’s gaps. She captured his spell, saw him mimic another pattern of his master’s (red lights, fast and blue bullets) and “captured” that too. The Library’s Apprentice wore a trembling closed smile, very apparently giddy. Alice smirked, and after incanting long—finally her enemy called for something original.

“Fire Sign: ‘The Furnace in Logi’s Stomach’!”

In the air between them bloomed a small bonfire. Alice looked at it, Gen smiled at it, and it gave birth to three more. Each of those bore six, and each of those bore six again, and with each proliferation the flames all grew. Alice frowned at the result: a broiling mass of fire in front of her. She was severely disappointed.

“What part of this is danmaku...?” she chastised, thinking it would explode into a pattern after her saying that. It didn’t.

She tested shooting through the fires, noting that her dolls’ bullets fizzled out on contact with the flames. She looked askance. Perhaps she could simply go around it and throw bullets in his face instead...? But looking, it seemed like his attack spread wide enough that it nearly touched the boundary of their decided field of play. Alice concluded: this was a gimmick card.

She thought to call out and confirm, but instead decided to both wait and see. She squinted at the fireball and tried to see if there was a path through it, and without warning the ball suddenly expanded.

With a sound of surprise Alice backed away, fire almost licking her nose tip. She stopped to see the thing held open, “bullets” crawling ever so slightly through the air, and she saw Gen crossing his arms out ahead of her. She next spotted a wisp of smoke arise quite randomly in a space between the excessive fires, and then they all closed again, rejoining once more into an impenetrable mass.

She figured it out.

“Despicable move, Gen,” she said with faint disgust.

“Pull those dolls close,” she heard him say from across the fire, “I wouldn’t want them burned.”

When the mass opened again she realized it was unpredictable where the bullets would go out, and so the safest bet was actually to charge forward rather than wait for openings to shoot through. She flew toward him slowly and carefully, concentrating her attacks and her movements while his magic surrounded her, and keeping an eye out for another wisp of smoke. When it came, she rushed to where it was fading, and as she expected the fire closed over her, but did not touch.

She was pleased to note the fire was, interestingly enough, not terribly hot on the inside like it felt on the outside. Perhaps this was Gen’s way of intimidation? He’d also made it so, somehow, breathing and oxygen came easily while you waited for the mass to part again. Fingers on her temple, she judged it thus: while definitely irritating, this was a kindly mindful spell.

And so she waited for fire orbs to hang about her again, made risky approaches to better her damage, retreated at the sight of smoke, and gradually brought Gen down for a capture.

Thus she began her next round, increasing bullet density.

“How was it?” Gen asked. Pride was clear in his cheeks, and his movements were thoughtless, as though the sky were clear.

“Yes, yes,” said Alice as she was pelted by his counterattack, “it was a very interesting spell. It’s unlike your Master.”

“Master specializes in variety, power, and thoughtfulness. She knows such a wide breadth of magic that she—”

Alice tuned the young man out.

He continued to prattle with enthusiasm, explaining as if she cared for Patchouli’s strengths and weaknesses, her mastery over all elements, or how she took to the spell card system like a fish to water. or how he liked trickiness because he could never compare to her otherwise...

He was a student who was smart due to his master, and so stupid for her.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GOy_AQrSw6U> ]  
[Birth of a God - Final Fantasy VII OST (Uematsu Nobuo)]

When Alice pulled her next card, she did so while thinking about her own, lonely process of learning the arts. Of course, not all Magicians were like her and Patchouli: learning much as they could on their own. Marisa was more insidious about her voracious appetite for learning, taking whatever she could quietly and then brazenly applying what she’d learned to her own or stolen spells. Gen had so much praise for his sources... In either case, Alice thought they were cute children.

“Did I ask for a Patchouli Knowledge lecture?” she mused. She held up her card. “‘The Phantom of the Grand Guignol’.”

 _Huh?_ thought Gen with an eyebrow lifted. _I don’t recognize that one._

And so, Alice brought out a disgusting puppet from behind her back: one sized like a diminutive person.

Gen’s skin crawled at its appearance: a sad and long-faced head rocked betwixt knobby shoulders, and it was clothed in a single, inelegant, pitch-black rag which began to end before its thighs. Its scalp was bare save a few odd red strands, and for some reason its eyes were closed. It had fingernails... and they were digging into its chin and “lips”... Furthermore, Gen swore that for a moment it seemed to be... _breathing_ , somehow. There was a small sigil representing flowers drawn onto its forehead in charcoal. Alice wiped the mark away with her thumb, and leisurely crossed her arms. Thus, the doll began to laugh without ever opening its mouth, and from Alice’s reticence he wagered she was not compelling it to do so.

Deep rubicund hair fell down over its body, bled from its skull torrential. Water ran down its face from under its lashes. It shook, those long and narrow limbs snapping with uncomfortable noise. It began to open its clouded eyes, and it stared at him.

Vomit rolled up from his stomach.

The so-called phantom was the source of Alice’s next range of danmaku, but he was made so nauseous by its granted sensations that he hardly noticed the fading mauve circles it had made float in the air, and that Alice was no longer playing around.

Danmaku could often be described in terms of flowers’ waxing and waning. The pattern would bloom open, close up, twist, et cetera. Alice’s spell now was no exception, and by the time Gen realized it had completely opened up, he judged that it was without a doubt the most absurd collection of bullets he’d faced since Yuuka had stared him down. Weaving pink magic and flushed diamonds, a kaleidoscopic madness blossomed before him, fluctuating, wherever he could see. This psychedelic flower was not, however, hard to deal with. Gen realized this because he had been paralyzed with fear from both the doll and the spell, and so noticed bullets were easily grazing just under his shoulders repeatedly. He needed only move back and forth a bit to avoid some strange, orbiting shots that came his way. He kept this up, thinking himself safe, and noticed too late a pair of bullets gunning for his gut.

“ _Bwff—!_ ” He spat with the impact of a punch-like hit, and instantly he became confused under the light of this slow and fast danmaku, repeatedly sounding, “Ah? Huh? Eh! Uhh...” and so on. Then came the roar of bitter, florid violet; its shots moving faster than any he’d seen ever before and making straight for him. With instinctual but jerky movements he went right in the sky to keep just barely away, feeling too similar to diving out the way of an avalanche, and so came to a depressing understanding as he narrowly lurched beyond another red bullet:

Presently, he had no idea what to do.

Furthermore, when Alice was readying the rush of purple, she’d move from her centered position, shifting the patterns of the phantom completely. This was no help. To survive this blasted card without losing the battle entirely, Gen resorted to clear-spells three— _three_ desperate times; emptying his soul excessively with “Five Seasons”, a spell his Master had taught him that utilized the elements of quarterly nature and the elements of Eastern magic in imagining a fifth. It summoned wide and Venn-intersecting circle-barriers around the summoner for protection. The barriers dealt no damage unless he was close, but Gen was too put off by Alice’s shots and doll to approach her. He got through the round without losing, as he wanted, but when left with his turn to cast he only remained stunned: unable to act and pull out any cards.

“How was it?” Alice echoed him, hiding away her revolting doll.

For a moment, he simply watched his summoned fires swirling around him in a daze, looking up after to ask, “Did you just use on me an ultimate attack?”

“Ah, yes,” Alice replied glibly, a cattish smile forming on her lips while she looked away.

Fiddling with one of the bows on his cuffs and glaring, he reminded her: “What happened to not going hard!?”

“I thought twice.”

“Then I will as well,” he answered, and as an incantation began to flow from his lips, he removed his fingers from his bow to dip his hand into his sleeve. There, he pulled out a new slip of paper. Holding it up, he told the puppeteer, “I’ll win with this. Water Sign: ‘Midgard Serpent, Release Your Tail’.”

Alice sighed and shook her head. “Again with something Norse?” she asked. “And the water sign... Can you really spare any more energy for creating water?”

Gen did not answer beyond a smile as his card became vapor, the air shook, and water erupted from the earth and trees.

Alice shot backward at once in response, shock evident in her eyes and brow. She quickly took stock of the situation by reassessing their environment. Certainly snow was water, but to convert it so fast to another state should’ve been beyond Gen’s—

“Ah...” Alice bemoaned her lack of thinking: of course he had water to use... Had this boy not cast fire before?

Alice could now see her bare roof and freed lawn, and the branches of the surrounding woods openly showing their bark. Columns of melted snow were flowing upward and gathering in the sky, and though Gen still summoned water on his own, it was much less than this spell would ordinarily ask for. Upon amassing all he needed into a helical shape between them, Gen directed the water to wholly wrap their playing field in a coiled and closed, light-shimmering rondure. Staring close, Alice could see he’d made the water into a snake’s shape—undoubtedly to resemble Jörmungandr who the spell was named after. When she saw the point where this ouroboros had its end within its “bite”, the maw was opened, and a storm broke loose.

At his current level, Gen’s spell was one he could ordinarily only use above Misty Lake and furthermore with as much concentration as his mind would allow. It forged a bullet curtain within the snake-sphere that replicated rains so harsh as to flood a dry land. Water fast swept throughout the air, cresting and crashing and scattering without mercy. It turned in a set way, and left little room for freedom, but AS it was set it was not an impossible spell card. Rather, like Alice’s Grand Guignol, it needed the opponent to not be overwhelmed and instead understand the pattern calmly to see where movement was safe.

Alice was not fully able to do this.

She got as much that following the curves and sweeps of water worked best, but the “rains” that didn’t join within the greater waves proved massively irritating to keep in mind. Again like her own powerful spell, these seemingly unpredictable bullets were quick on their paths, and so demanded avoidance that had to be reactive and essentially immediate. While she did not fall apart like a clumsy fool (as Gen had, when this such avoidance was demanded of _him_ ), she nonetheless suffered a miss, and another, and another, and even when she drew upon a spell to clear some of the this unrelenting water, she had soon found that she’d suffered too much. She was, in time, driven to the wall of water, and there thoroughly soaked. She arrived on her porch, collapsed. As Gen had declared: with this, it was his win, and her loss.

The Magician’s Apprentice descended toward the Seven-Colored Puppeteer; she dressed for winter yet sodden with water, he with both hands over his mouth to cover his smile. Alice offered him misery in her face, and Gen offered her the once more repeated question:

“So? How was it?”

~~

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Anchor: H8

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/316457)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q8dsSe21npk> ]  
[The Doll Maker of Bucuresti 【classic guitar】 - (Guitaryuya)]

Alice Margatroid sat in front of her fireplace, drying herself, while her guest allowed himself to read one of her books. She was of two minds on Itou Gen’s forthrightness: not liking his brazen attitude like the thing in his hands was the spoils of victory, but quietly happy he’d taken some interest in her magic regardless of the context. Although she was still shivering wet, she allowed herself a small smile.

“Really, why cast magic from a puppet when a circle would do just the same?” Gen rudely pondered. “And these adroit demands for even basic actions... What’s the point?”

Alice’s eyebrows lowered and she thought: _Never mind, he’s a troglodyte._

“When are you going to leave?” she asked him in a terse fashion from over her shoulder.

Gen continued to leaf through her copy of _Fingers and Strings_ languidly, telling her without a glance, “I need to stay to make sure you’re alright.”

Her eyebrow’s lifted for a moment and she began to chew a little on the lower left side of her inner lip, not looking at him. Much a fool as he was, Gen’s sudden earnestness was disarming. To turn back the mood, Alice spoke again.

“R-Right,” she stammered, “again you leave me like the unfortunate victim of a carnival game. Is this going to be a trend?”

Gen looked up from his reading to look instead at her and say, “Only in the summer from now on, Alice. That’s a promise.”

“Please don’t promise that...” she whimpered.

“Autumn it is!” he declared with a snap of the fingers and a point.

“Were you always like this!?” she cried.

Gen gave the loser a bright smile. They’d both overdone it with their last words, but he was glad he’d overdone it and won. He’d be sure to brag to Patchouli about it later. And thinking on his Master: he had accomplished one of his tasks, and now it was time for him to go to Reimu’s place and properly meet her. Although beyond that, he wasn’t _completely_ certain what his Master wanted of their meeting. He had some ideas, but...

Well, what he was thinking was: regardless, he wouldn’t spend much time at the Shrine now would he? Sure, Master had said to head immediately to the shrine once he was done but... she knew him, he wasn’t always obedient. Why not put off seeing the Hakurei girl for a little while?

[] _I’ll meet Youmu first and touch base with her about her progress._

[] _I’ll go find Aomu... I should probably tell her I’m human._

[] _... On second thought, defying Master might be a bad idea today. She doesn’t usually steer me from distractions._

<>

[X] _... On second thought, defying Master might be a bad idea today. She doesn’t usually steer me from distractions._

_The last thing I want is for her to actually be watching through Miss Sakuya or some such. Can’t be getting too courageous while I’m still here. Mistress Flandre did remind me: every day I live in Gensokyo is a risk, even in that house..._

He looked at Alice’s back, her shirt slowly becoming opaque as water was warmed out of it.

 _Alright,_ he decided, _I’ll do as I was told and go straight to the Shrine. To think of playing it safe, seeing Aomu would mean seeing other kappa on their turf, and I’d be a human walking right up to that. As for Youmu... if Master’s really keeping an eye on me, she’ll figure out why I was so pleased to learn “Five Seasons”. Not ideal._

He waited patiently for the doll-using magician to heat up to normalcy. Though age and hunger couldn’t kill her, illness still could. He wouldn’t want that from a prank, or anything else. With some well wishes and japes, he left when it was still morning, and he knew her to be safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	9. Winter, Post Meridiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gen goes to the Hakurei Shrine as asked, and learns some valuable lessons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.9**  
>  [A9].[B9].[C9].[D9].[E9].[F9].[G9].[H9]  
> [I9].[J9].[K9].[L9]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to [https://www.touhou-project.com/](https://www.touhou-project.com/9) Be wary of **spoilers.**

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Anchor: A9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2772797)

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[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=4AogtBw7Bvo> ]  
[Starry Night Flight - Starlight Prelude (hatsunetsumiko's)]

It really was cold flying through Gensokyo’s winter skies, even with a cloak of flames to warm you. On one hand, he regretted making that promise to Alice before their fight, but on the other he would at least get to the Shrine much faster this way, perhaps even with some time for his side endeavors after whatever business awaited him concluded.

 _At least the sun came out,_ he thought, _that’s certainly nice._

He went beyond the forest, and then over the village which he still had yet to step foot in, and finally woods appeared again: hiding a trail that led to what seemed to be a long flight of steps. As far as he recalled, this tucked-away thing was the way to the Hakurei Shrine. He looked at it, and then decided to land to climb it, dispelling his fire enchantment as he began. He thought, that might be better than an unceremonious landing in front of her house. The child was a firecracker, or so she seemed from all he knew about her. The last thing he wanted was her throwing needles quite suddenly in his face.

He climbed while surrounded by the soft sounds of winter, and rare animal steps and leaps as small things foraged under the trees. It seemed like the Shrine sat on a very tall hill: height perhaps just before a mountain. The staircase leading to it was not as well-traveled as he’d have wagered given how old he knew it to be, but it hadn’t entirely been cleared of snow and ice so it was not as if visitors were expected. That being said, most of the snow seemed to have simply been caught by the high branches of the forest, which at least made for _slightly_ better passage. However... Master Patchouli, Miss Sakuya, Mistress Remilia, Mistress Flandre, and even Wakasagihime had all said the same thing: the Shrine Maiden was the only human that youkai uncharacteristically feared, and toward youkai was uncharacteristically (at least of humans in general) fearless, and so they all loved her so greatly that they left her shrine barren. While she refused non-human guests, she never did so so strongly that any were honestly discouraged or rebuffed. She would even still have their company, and spend her free (or even busy) time with them. Although she protected Gensokyo’s humans from monsters, she’d gained a reputation for being surrounded by them, and thus humans rarely ventured up this hill.

He thought it was a little sad, but the few times he’d seen her at the Mansion, she’d only ever given off a quality of nirvana, almost. Like that was that, and she was free. He wondered again why his Master was having him meet her.

It took quite a while to summit the hill; when he saw the familiar red of a torii gate he knew he was finally close. After taking the last steps, he gazed upon the Hakurei Shrine with a growing frown.

“Hmm...?” he muttered.

The grounds were completely covered in snow.

He wasn’t sure exactly, but it felt like it had been an hour since snow had stopped falling. This snow looked like it had been piled to its utmost, however, and there was no one here taking care of it.

“Is there an Incident?” he wondered aloud, recalling Reimu’s position. Nothing seemed unusual about today, however.

Looking around more he could see that the shrine itself, the surrounding trees, and some sort of shed near the back were all piled high with white. Nothing at all seemed to have been touched by human hands, and he couldn’t even tell if the shrine lived up to its poor and old reputation with how obfuscating the results of weather were. He began to wonder if Reimu had just slept in, and then, he saw it:

A snowman.

“Hah?” He uttered. The young apprentice’s face twisted in incredulity at the thought that someone hadn’t even bothered to shovel the stairs, but _had_ made time to slack off and build a snowman. When he was about to head toward the shrine’s porch to chastise its maiden, he involuntarily squinted to a frigid sensation above his eyes. It seemed snow dust had blown into his face.

... Although that didn’t make much sense: surely it would have touched his cheeks first. Looking into the sky, he saw two figures playing...

“Fairies...?” he guessed.

A small girl wearing black and white was hurling snowball danmaku at another girl in red and white, who was not using danmaku but instead had a large amount of ammunition in her arms. Gen squinted... and realized the former was Marisa without her hat. He looked back at the snowman and saw that it _was_ wearing something on its head. That hadn’t registered to him at first.

“Dream Sign!” came a call from above, causing him to return his gaze to the sky. “‘Snow-Sealing Circle!’”

“You wouldn’t...!” shouted the girl in black.

The girl in red threw a snowball in her face.

“Aaagh!!” cried Marisa through frozen water. “Ya got meeee!”

“Ha ha ha!” laughed Reimu in a mock boasting tone. “Behold the power of a yuki-onna!”

“Don’t think I’ll lose here, ya dirty youkai!”

“It doesn’t matter how dumb, smelly, and stupid us youkai are, we’re still stronger than humans!” Reimu threw another snowball.

“Nngh!” with a grunt, Marisa steered herself out the way, a wave of snow following behind her. Gen was impressed by her again (he often was, whenever she came to steal from the Library). Manipulating elements outside of their base states was rather difficult.

Marisa slipped her hand under her collar and pulled a spell card out of it. She showed it to Reimu, who gasped with an exaggerated pose of recoil. “How can it be!?” said the ~~Shrine Maiden~~ yuki-onna. “You still have MORE!?”

“You got it,” bragged Marisa, and she held the card high. “Magic Sign! ‘Snow Dust Reverie’!”

“That’s so stupid,” Gen remarked with a smile. This was the card Marisa had used to defeat the younger Mistress. Or, it was a silly variation on it. When she declared it, the snow behind her spread into a familiar pattern, and Reimu was swept up into it.

“ _Aaaaaghh! I’ve been defeateeed!! Aaaahh!_ ” shouted Reimu in an overly dramatic voice as she threw her stock of snow into the air and began spinning in the sky with her hands over her face. Soon she dropped out of the air and onto the grounds below in a burst of white cold, laughing the crater she’d made. With her came tiny diamonds of snow all over, settling in Gen’s hair and on his shoulders, and Marisa was close to follow the wave. She landed near to Reimu, and both were instantly loud with cheer. Leaning against the gate with his hands in his pockets, Gen watched as – after rolling about a bit – they began to make snow angels.

The girls broke into a traditional snowball fight next, tussling lightly as well, and full of joy. His irritation over the Shrine Maiden’s laziness vanished without his notice while he observed. Seeing them like this, he had some old memories in mind...

“Whoa, it’s Gen!”

Hearing Marisa’s voice, he was withdrawn from recollections of snow-filled neighborhoods. He looked at her, and a chestnut head of hair popped up from behind her with eyes to match.

“It really is!” said the second child. Then, she squinted and looked at the other little girl, asking, “Eh, is it?”

“Ain’t you seen him before?”

“I see a lot of things but that doesn’t mean I remember them.”

“Like Rumia?”

Reimu’s squint deepened. “Who the heck?”

“Hello,” Gen interjected. “Yes, I’m Itou Gen, the Library’s Apprentice.”

Reimu pushed Marisa’s head down to lift herself up, shoving the tiny magician into a pile of ice as a result. She was beaming as she said, “Great! The shovels are in the storehouse!”

A small pile of snow fell from the torii and dropped onto his coat with a _thump_.

“Come again?” he asked.

Marisa, who had been struggling against Reimu’s strength since she’d been pushed down, managed to free her hands and get her face out of that mess. With an eye closed and a toothy grin she addressed the young man happily with a, “‘Sup, Gen!”

“Uh...” was all he managed.

“Didn’t Patchouli tell you?” she went on. “You’re helping out Reimu today.”

“Why am I helping out Reimu?” he asked, looking at the girl in question, who was now praying to a small jizou of snow she’d crafted.

“That magician-playing-hermit wants a favor out of me,” explained the Hakurei without looking at him, and raising her hand to chop the jizou before her down on its head, “so she offered me a favor: she’d lend me you for the snowstorm, since one was coming, and I’d do... something. She hasn’t told me yet, but if it’s anything bad I’ll just punish her again.” Reimu tightened the bow behind her head and now met his eyes, still clearly in great spirits. While Marisa created another jizou behind her with whispers of magic, Reimu thanked him. “Seriously,” she said, “you’re a real lifesaver. The snow was really bad this year so I wasn’t looking forward to it. Thanks for your help!” She beamed once again before telling him, “Go get a shovel while the Sun’s still out, okay?”

“...”

Gen thought back to his Master.

He delivered a short sigh, levitated above the snow, and went for the storehouse while Reimu descended on Marisa’s jizou, prayed to it, and chopped it, too, on the head.

~~

* * *

Anchor: B9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1058885)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=LhAc8VHaLJA> ]  
[響縁 – 東方猫鍵盤3 (豚乙女)]

He didn’t have much experience shoveling snow.

Back home, he was sometimes chosen instead of his father to clear the walkway to their front door, but it was never anything serious.

The Hakurei Shrine grounds were a significant leap in difficulty. While the grounds themselves weren’t ENORMOUS, they weren’t small or average in size either. Due to his inexperience he wasn’t able to manipulate the snow with magic, even with _The Simplest Manual of Materials for Starting Magicians_ that he still never left without (it was explicitly stated in the text that unusual states were outlined in _The Advanced Manual of Materials for Adept Magicians_ , a book he’d used before that was so large carrying it outdoors even by magic was simply unfeasible). Several times during his hours-long task of manual labor with a push shovel he considered melting away the snow with fire... but there were problems preventing him from going down that route. What if the shrine was engulfed in flames and burned down? What would he do about the water on the floor? If he missed _any_ —any at all, that would just be ice for another day, and plucking water from earth or stone wasn’t very... possible. Even if he melted the snow only a bit, he had recollections of trouble dealing with slush rather than its more frozen counterpart. While he was fairly certain it wasn’t any heavier, it was messy, awful stuff, and gods forbid any get in his shoes and absorbed by his socks. With that in mind, although his shoes had a ward against water enchanted on them, he still had regrets over not taking out a pair of boots for the damnable cold. He trudged through the snow, pushing it off into the forests and grasses around the shrine, and kept in mind the miserable reality that after all this he had the stairs to get through.

Reimu and Marisa, on the other hand, were simply having fun today and relaxing. Although they’d reminded him of the fair folk when he’d first seen them today, they had little of that distinct mischievousness, which he appreciated. They left him alone to his snow and his thoughts while they frolicked in their snow and lazed about interchangeably.

At one moment earlier in the day while they’d been beside each other in work and play respectively, Gen had asked Marisa how it had gone with Miss Sakuya in the morning.

“She fought me!” Marisa had answered while sitting on Reimu’s shoulders.

“Did she lose?” he’d asked.

“I left her in the dust,” the little magician had bragged. However, Reimu next chimed in with a key piece of information:

“As in, you left her because Sakuya was beating the hell out of you.”

Marisa nearly fell from her position then, a blush entering her cheeks. She gave an “Ahm...” and an “eh,” and after coughing explained, “I mean, Sakuya’s pretty scary when she’s serious.”

“She did look pretty driven this morning,” he’d replied, thinking, _Probably because Master asked her directly._

“Yeah, it was like she was _possessed_ or somethin’. I was like, ‘come on, you never got a problem with me other days’, but she just wasn’t havin’ it, I tell ya. I got outta there, like my hair was on fire.”

 _Miss Sakuya didn’t give chase,_ Gen noted. _She’s being like_ that _again._

What Marisa had referred to by the Head Maid not having a problem with her was part of what Gen meant when he thought of Sakuya being “like _that_ ”. When she was “like _that_ ” she played dumb with the Mistress. When she was “like _that_ ” she put strange flowers in tea. When she was “like _that_ ” she would keep quiet when a certain rat invaded the Library, and would even feed it like she was keeping a hidden pet.

 _Here’s a theory:_ he’d thought at the time, smirking, _I’ll get home, and Master will tell me that Miss Sakuya let Marisa get away, but didn’t break into her house to retrieve the stolen property because “that’s what criminals do, not maids”. And Master Patchouli will glower, furrow her brow, and say, “Seriously, Sakuya is a lousy cat/”_

And presently, as he pushed the last of the snow from the stone walkways, he thought this as well: _I should remind her that cats aren’t known for their obedience... Though I have heard Miss Sakuya being called a dog before, come to think of it._

He was fairly exhausted now, and guessed it was perhaps three in the afternoon. He decided to request a break before he went down the hill; otherwise he was sure he’d collapse. He strode over to the girls sitting on Reimu’s porch, drinking tea and eating dango, and he hailed them.

“Gum wohrk,” said Reimu, with dumpling in her mouth.

“Good work,” said Marisa, without.

“Yeah, but now I feel like I’m gonna fall apart,” he admitted. “I’m going to rest before I do the stairs, alright?” He took a seat before them with his knees up and his forearms on those.

“Yeah, you look pretty weak, and magicians already usually are ‘cause of what we do, ya know,” said Marisa, chomping down on her skewer.

“Yeah,” agreed Reimu, “at least that first one.” While he sat offended, thinking about his daily training with Meiling, she stood and walked into her house.

He looked to Marisa. “So, how’ve you been?” he asked.

“Oh yeah, seeing ya reminded me!” she began with excitement. “I’m cookin’ up some magic usin’ that master of yours for reference. We ain’t never fought, have we? You wanna see the work in progress? I’m nearly done with it!”

“No,” he answered, eyes closed, “I already told you I’m pretty low on energy right now. That besides, I already had a spell card duel today.”

“What? You can only do one a day or something?” questioned Marisa in disappointment.

“Rather, I’d still like to restrict casual play a bit. I think I can do it – perhaps I even have seven or eight fights in me – but if I can avoid it, well... I need that spare strength, you see. We’re both humans, Marisa, but not of the same category.”

“Oh yeah, you’re not from here,” Reimu recalled, returning to the pair with a cup of tea and another skewer of dango. She offered both to Gen as if this was a matter of course, and the gesture struck him as rather disarmingly kind. He took the offerings, she sat back down on her knees, and he watched her while thinking, _Goodness, it’s like hosting is just a_ part _of her._

“Yes, I’m an outsider,” he eventually confirmed.

“Want me to send you home?”

“Huh?” sounded Gen in slight surprise. “Oh... no. No thank you.”

“Gen’s gonna become a Magician,” chimed in Marisa.

“Hmmm? Really?” Reimu asked, absently rotating the cup in her hands. “Well do what you want, but if you ever move to the Human Village don’t even think about it.”

“Hey, I’ve never said I’ll become a blood-Magician,” shot Gen at the tiny blond before biting into one of his dumplings. In response both children looked at him with mouths diagonal and eyebrows cocked. In response to _that_ he complained, “ _What?_ ”

“He says that even though he spends most of his days down in the basement of Scarlet Devil Mansion with Patchouli,” noted Marisa.

“He smells like Patchouli, too,” noted Reimu.

“He’s learning magic and he’s even used a forbidden grimoire to get some dark power already.”

“That flower youkai said she let him live ‘cause she figured he wanted to live forever.”

“Remilia gave him some of her blood.”

“Oh yeah, yeah; she told me he started an incident in her house once. In the first month, too.”

“Listen up, Reimu, Marisa,” Gen halted their comments, “my humanity is very important to me. I’ve indeed brushed with death and feared it, but I still have too much appreciation for the wheel of life to just up and leave it.”

“Getting really scared of death,” said Reimu, “is the first bad sign. It’s one almost everyone has, but when you’re a student of magic. too...”

He scoffed. “Come now, I don’t even have a reason to live forever!”

“Ah, so, when you find one...” Marisa began, sneering at Reimu.

“Like, a nice girl?” the Shrine Maiden continued, smirking in return.

The two of them bent back and clashed the single dango each had left on their skewers between them, calling in unison: “ _Marriage!_ ”

“Death won’t let ‘em part, though!” Marisa remarked, grinning with her eyes closed.

“That’s romantic~!” Reimu declared, doing the same.

The two of them then finished off their last dango, and squealed together at the thought of Gen finding a special someone.

Gen finished his own dango and placed his skewer among theirs on the plate they all shared. Drinking more tea, he commented sourly, “For two strange people, you say some surprisingly typically girlish things, don’t you?”

“I’m a girl, you know,” said Reimu.

“Yeah, same,” said Marisa.

“Hmph,” he grumbled. He didn’t want to think about such things, mainly because, naturally, due to the day’s events, Mistress Flandre readily came to mind where these matters were concerned. This was all too large a can of worms.

... But, he knew he was being miserable for the sake of it. Reimu and Marisa were in good spirits and seemed to want him in good spirits as well. Feeling rested now, he decided to accept that sentiment (assuming that was their intent, and they weren’t simply being, well, children) and stand to get back to his task. He downed the rest of the tea in his cup and returned it to Reimu. “You know what? Perhaps you’re right,” he said, slightly turning from them and slipping his hands into his pockets. “It’s true this young man has yet to fall in love.”

“Old man,” they said, almost at once, following with “old man? Old man? Mm, mm, yeah, old, yeah.”

“... Early twenties,” he grumbled. He shook his head. “I’m getting back to shoveling.”

“Best of luck!” said Reimu cheerfully, and he made his way to the stairs. The two of them steadily became quiet, Marisa on her back and almost sleeping as Reimu counted the clouds in the sky.

~~

* * *

Anchor: C9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2237230)

* * *

The stairs, while awkward to contend with, were not as bad as Reimu’s tiled grounds. Those were uneven and so he regularly had to reposition the pusher, miss a large amount, and go find a better variety of shovel for the problem. Back and forth, crouching to look for ice, picking away at more packed up snow, all of that tiresome work and more was involved in making the shrine grounds fit for walking. He expected the strange angles of the stairs to be plain agony, but really all he needed to do was shove relatively thin layers off of each step and into the wild grasses as well as over roots of trees. He had them clear in what felt like an hour.

When he took care of the last step and looked back up at his handiwork with a blend of misery and pride, he took flight and decided to deal with the snow on the overhanging branches as well. A few times some melting snow from above him would slip off and force him to return to a previous step to get rid of it. Here, he would use magic.

Being very careful, the Magician’s Apprentice set up a system like he’d done during his Skyfall Incident at the Mansion, though now his circles and spellweaving were significantly improved of course. He directed fire wrapped in air above the trees for melting, and any falling water was caught in a floating stream over the staircase. This made short work of the piles above, and when he landed a strange kind of shoreless river awaited him below, leading up to the shrine and undulating eerily gorgeous. After retrieving the trio of elemental scrolls he’d put down around the staircase, he started back up it again, gathering the water into a ball above his fingers all the while via carefully delivered soft and dark whispers.

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/?v=N4-ang_rst4> ]  
[Under the Quiet Moon ～The Girl From Fantasy～ - シンクロニシティ (hatsunetsumiko's)]

When he reached the Shrine itself again, the ball had become immense—larger than himself, held over his head, and somewhat unstable without the firm support of a rune or glyph. It was unabashedly one of the more bizarre pictures he’d created: that of a man carrying a veritable pool of water like this. He wandered over to Reimu (still on her porch) with the shimmering, shifting thing and informed her: “This is the snow from the trees. What do you think I should do with it?”

Reimu, who was having tea again and about to take another sip, nearly spat at the oddity he was carrying. Eyes wide, she opened her mouth about to ask “what is that thing?” and realized that question had been answered before she needed to speak it. She relaxed considerably after that, accepting the reality of this strange object, and told Gen, simply, “Put it over there.”

She pointed to her snow-covered lawn that he had, of course, not shoveled at all and followed with “I want to see if it can freeze overnight.”

He nodded with a “Roger,” and, with his left hand, awkwardly (but carefully) prepared a seal so that the globe would remain congealed while floating in front of the Shrine Maiden’s home. He set it and the water there... the result, he thought, was something which looked like a some _very_ strange art piece straight out of fantasy. Perhaps it was, really—if you wanted to call it “art”. The water remained aloft as a warped mirror and lens that he thought wasn’t likely to freeze over, but might contain some ice later. At least, he imagined Reimu could have some fun throwing things into it if she liked. “Careful when you remove this seal,” he told her from over his shoulder while crouching before the thing, “the water will just collapse immediately. I’d suggest getting a fairy to do it.”

“That’s a good idea,” Reimu agreed plainly, and Gen walked up to her again.

He glanced down at her and saw that Marisa was fast asleep, draped in a blanket now and drooling. “How’d she sleep in this cold?” he asked, incredulous.

Reimu shrugged and said matter-of-factly, “She’s _asking_ for a cold.” Next the child smiled at him. “Thanks again,” she offered, “I know how annoying it is to have to do something because you have to do it, even if you really don’t want to. Whether or not I think it’s a good or bad thing, that magician youkai is your Master. You have to listen to her. Here, don’t sit there, get up on the porch, I’ll bring out some sake.” Reimu stopped him from sitting back down on stone, patted the place beside her, and re-entered her home for the aforementioned alcohol.

Gen accepted the invitation graciously, but as he waited for her to get back while listening to Marisa’s snoring, he thought: _Wait, sake?_

Reimu did indeed return with booze, a set of cups and flask, and a smile. He looked at her and asked outright, “Aren’t you a child? Are you even past ten?”

She looked confused and asked “Are you an adult? I don’t get the question.”

“Alcohol is for men and women,” he told her, “not boys and girls.”

“Alcohol is for _people_. And _drinking_.” The child was emphatic. “You get a cup, and you drink it. It’s not poison.”

“It is a poison, absolutely.”

“It’s a cure, Gen,” Reimu said with a sigh, shaking her head and setting her things down. “Poisons cure poisons, and this cures the poison of a tired soul.”

“You just said it wasn’t a poison.”

Reimu sat down, looked into his eyes, and, with conviction, told him, “I never said that.”

 _I can’t even tell if she’s lying_ , he commented in his head, eyebrows twisting as he considered the audacity of her denial. Without missing a beat she prepared two cups and the flask and soon they had performed a toast and were drinking together. He thought it was strange to be a man carrying a globe of snow water, but this—being a man drinking liquor with a child while seated at a shrine—was far more difficult to grasp. At least the sake was delicious: it tasted of plums and wasn’t very strong in its body. _Forget about it,_ he told himself, to not focus on Reimu’s drinking. He wanted to relax now as evening and twilight hours approached, so he decided he _would_.

“By the way, we’ve never actually introduced ourselves properly have we?” Reimu mentioned, her cheeks already becoming rosily tinged.

“No, I suppose we haven’t,” he said in accord. “We don’t meet often either, nor during any particular times.”

Reimu pulled her knees to her chest and, comfortable, hugged her legs, pointing at the man beside her with the same hand that held her sakazuki (what skill!). “I _think_ you were there when I went to stop that other devil. I remember thinking, ‘I don’t remember this one. Should I hit him, too?’”

“Not one to recognize faces though, eh?”

“After that I definitely remembered that there was another human in the Mansion other than Sakuya,” she said, “and though it never really stuck what you looked like I definitely noticed that there was always a butler among the maids whenever I happened to visit.”

“‘Butler’...”

“Hard to believe _two_ humans would willingly live there, though.”

She was right about that.

For a while after, they sat drinking without speaking—Reimu quickly becoming inebriated. While the plum sake wasn’t a hard drink, that made it rather devious, as imbibing copious amounts of it was easy, and encouraged by the taste. When the shrine maiden was tipsy, Gen brought up something he’d been reminded of tens of minutes earlier.

“Hey, Reimu, Miss Sakuya is an outsider as well, isn’t she?” he asked. “How come she doesn’t have to worry about being eaten?”

She raised two fingers to this, mouth turning pleasantly and nose flushed. “There are two reasons for that,” she said airily, “the first one is, she moved here officially rather than falling or being pulled in. The youkai are more lenient to those sorts of humans. It’s not easy getting through the Barrier, after all. Even if they got help doing it, the youkai think it’s impressive and lay off.” She went to drink from her cup now, frowned horribly upon seeing that it was empty, lifted the tokkuri and felt with a light shake that it was the same. and then leaned far back while putting both down. The girl reached for a purple bottle (that, really, seemed to be as tall as a third of her height), and brought it into her lap. “The second reason,” she continued as she unscrewed the top, “is the more important one. Her powers make her a being of fantasy even though she’s a human.” The bottle was opened, she licked her lips, and she drank from the thing, holding it with both her hands. Gen was rapt in his attention toward her act, and took another sip from his cup while watching in awe.

“Pah!” Reimu made a noise after pulling the drink from her lips. “Basically...” she slowly began again, looking at him while she gripped the bottle’s neck, “she can stop time, right? That’s not normal, right? Here in Gensokyo we accept the abnormal. We protect it. It also depends a little on the Outside World, I guess. Like, ESP or something, or psychics or something... I think youkai might eat those guys anyway.” Seeing that his cup was empty, she lifted the bottle again and tipped it toward him, offering. He accepted, taking it into his hand.

While he drank from the bottle, she went on, “But yeah, say you had what you could only call a... what _you_ ,” she clarified this was not a general “you”, nodding at him, “would call fiction. No science behind it. No theory. Nobody _believes_ in it, or if there are any believers, it’s not widely accepted as truth. It’s not _wholly_ accepted. It’s fantasy. It’s here... Sakuya.” Having proved her drunken coherence was at a master’s level, Reimu’s explanation was concluded and she proudly huffed warm air out her reddened nose.

Gen stared at Reimu severe, brought the bottle down into his own lap, and told her, “That made perfect sense,” with all honesty.

“Right?” Reimu asked, grinning and pleased.

He looked out over the shrine grounds. Like he was now, he was an ordinary man with interesting tools. He, personally, could improve his efficacy with those tools (through study, training, and honing of his spirit) but none of this made him truly “special”. Any other human in his position could do the same. So, that was why if he no longer wanted his life at risk (and didn’t want to settle for the life of a villager), he had to transform... become something Gensokyo felt was worth keeping.

 _... I don’t_ have _to extend my life, I suppose. When Master Patchouli was born as a Magician, alongside natural magical prowess she only had the abandonment of food, not the abandonment of worms. She and all Magicians have to choose to become immortal thems—_

 _Wait, what am I_ thinking _?_

Maybe it was because he’d become a bit warm-headed himself: he found himself rationalizing becoming a youkai. First his Lolita complex, now this perhaps-subconscious ambition; this place was a hell, and corrupting him.

While thinking this over, Gen sank into himself, choking the bottle.

Reimu, who was leaning back on her hands, glanced over at him and made the observation: “Whoa, you look depressed all of a sudden.”

He looked up at her and pouted, saying, “Outsiders have a raw deal, here.”

Reimu, with a careless expression, told him, “That’s how it is,” followed by, “if you want to live, you have to fight for it.

“Long ago, almost every human here could fight for themselves, but over time we realized that the Hakurei Shrine Maiden was the only human needed to protect everyone in Gensokyo. Before I put the spell card rules in play it wasn’t ideal though, and even now there are still a few exterminators to help in the village, but we maidens can trounce even youkai and gods if they’re causing any trouble. And if they’re causing trouble, we’re quick!”

She hardened her eyes to deliver a look that spoke “I am absolute”, and he was compelled to believe it despite it coming from a child. This gaze of determination sobered after a moment, though. With solemn eyes and solemn voice, she informed the young man, Itou Gen: “But if you’re in trouble, and I’m not already there, I will have neither the duty nor the motivation to save you.”

He grimaced under her stare. He had already heard this before, but hearing it from the shrine maiden herself sent through his body a very cold and soaking feeling, even given the weather now. Without waiting for him to say anything in response, Reimu continued.

“Youkai terrorize and eat humans, and humans do what any other animal would do when faced with something dangerous: they fight, or they run away.” And, to his surprise given the seriousness of this line of conversation, Reimu gave him a smile. Very nicely she told him, “I think it’s better and safer to fight, so I hope that book-witch has been teaching you.”

“Oh she has,” he replied. “And since I’m not bound by the spell card rules, she’s taught me quite a lot for my survival. I’ve been pretty stubborn about neglecting materials in my magic, though.”

“Ah, like mushrooms or something? Like Marisa.”

“Yes, like the book-thief,” he confirmed, glancing at the snoozing girl in question. With a smile of embarrassment he explained, “They’d increase the power and variety of my spells, but Master rarely uses materials, and I like to imitate her the most.”

“Gross.” Reimu’s reply was immediate. He frowned. “Anyway that sounds pretty dumb...” the shrine maiden continued, repositioning herself into a very mannish posture (chin on her fist, left hand on her knee, cross-legged, and slouching), “... you should probably use whatever you can. You’re just a human after all.”

“And what are you?”

“I’m a human Shrine Maiden.”

He laughed involuntarily, recalling his meeting with Marisa. Reimu asked “What?” before speaking further.

“Honestly...” she said, “you should be more worried. How about it? Want me to take you on for a bit? I’ll judge you.” In her smirk: smugness, boast, and pride were there. “I’m in a _real_ good mood,” she admitted. “I don’t normally do that, you know? I’ll fight anyone, but I don’t bother judging, ‘cause when everyone else is so bad at everything there’s no real point, right? Anyway, whaddya say?”

For now, he only gave a somewhat firm, “Hm.”

He thought about it this way: Reimu was essentially, as far as he knew, the pinnacle of humanity here in Gensokyo when it came to fighting, and even ranked highly when measured against the greatest powers this land had to offer. But, she was the creator of the rules, and knew the “game” best as a result. A fight with her, at least under the rules, would probably be very helpful... _ordinarily_. She _was_ drunk, and although that obviously didn’t overall impair her much he had to imagine it _must_ reduce her combat proficiency to a significant degree. Thus, fighting this muddled shrine maiden could end up being a silly waste of time. Plus, if he fought with her he might lose the opportunity to see the kappa or half-phantom before heading home for the day. He really wasn’t so free to wander Gensokyo yet, after all, and so meetings like that were difficult to have. He still wanted to meet them, even if he was now tipsy.

Which was another thing, he was definitely a bit inebriated, and he didn’t have Youmu’s second sword to clear his head right now.

_Agh, but, I don’t think I’ll get many chances to fight Reimu..._

He...

* * *

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2263508)

* * *

[] decided to fight her.

[] decided to refuse.

<>

[X] decided to fight her.

* * *

Anchor: D9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2739870)

* * *

_Carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero_. As they’d acknowledged earlier, the two had very little reason to meet.

“Alright Reimu,” he answered with a bit of a smile, “I’ll take you on.”

“ _Alriiight~_ ,” she drawled. She seemed pleased. “Let’s lay some ground rules then.”

Reimu put her hand behind herself and pushed up to stand, stretching once she had and then warming her fingers. “Two things first,” she began, patting through her clothes in search of something. “One: I don’t want you to use any spells you think are ‘special’ or ‘strong’. I want to see your average, not exceptional. No bullet-clearing either!”

Not finding what she was looking for, she retreated into her home. Gen craned his neck to see that she was heading into some other room, and after he heard her rummaging through something. “Two!” came a sudden shout from within that made him bring up his shoulder. “We’ll fight twice! We’ll use the spell card rules first, then we’ll fight without them! After all, you probably get less chances dueling than you do without rules. The first rule won’t apply to our second fight, of course. Don’t hold anything back, okay?” Reimu walked back out with a simple rod-and-paper gohei and nearly tripped, sending stick’s diamond-shaped tassels wildly over her head. She was, superbly, demonstrating a dual air of preparedness and thorough inebriation. Once she’d planted her feet better, she touched her fingers to her forehead and breathed out “Fuu...” before looking at him through bleary eyes and showing a cat-like smile. Well, this was what he’d signed up for.

In any case, the lush was correct. While he tried to avoid places where he knew particularly dangerous and/or strong youkai liked to lurk, he still regularly had to _fight_ youkai. At this point it wasn’t like every battle paralyzed him with fear, but they were indeed fights with no holds barred, so in the (generally unlikely) case he lost against a weak youkai, that person or monster would (most likely) eat him then and there. And, of course, in the case he _had_ to fight something even _approaching_ Yuuka or the ship-killer’s strength, even now... ordinarily, wouldn’t he just die? More practice to avoid a grim fate was appreciated.

So, he nodded.

The ground rules were more than fine; they’d allow for an accurate measure of his abilities, or perhaps it was better to say they’d be... _a_ measure. A rough, but _probably_ worthwhile measure? Reimu was absolutely not fine on her feet at the moment, and he could already picture her wavering in the sky. He’d still lose to her without a doubt, but these were surely not her ideal conditions for a fight, and that was a _touch_ disappointing. The point stood: this would assuredly be a valuable learning experience.

“Oh, and uuhm, some advice, a suggestion,” Reimu raised a finger and eyebrow as she spoke, taking a quizzical posture, “a request, an order. This is an order.”

Reimu, who stepped off the ground, began floating.

She brought her gaze to his and commanded, “Don’t think you’ll lose to me.”

The hairs on his neck stood on end—a battle was about to commence, and he could feel its approach. Gen himself began to stand as well, and for now could only voice his confusion to the little girl in a singular “Eh?”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9XG8bWAo2A> ]  
[Dream Express ～ Red / White - 東方夢終劇 ～ Concealed the Conclusion (みょん)]

“Don’t think about losing. Do you think about losing when your life is on the line? Do you fight against death thinking that death is going to take you? Even if you _will_ lose to me, come at me like you’ll _win_.”

She continued, not allowing him a breath: “You have a face like you want to lose... Learning from your mistakes? Experience from failure...? Loser talk! You shouldn’t want to fail at all! If you want to win, think about winning! Look! Toward victory! Then it won’t be a dream!”

Shouting now she readied a sheaf of seals grasped from her sleeve, and he rushed to his feet. “That’s my advice and my order, Gen!” she declared. “Now, _dodge!_ ”

He’d gone colder than the air, and when he leapt backward to crash into the snow of the yard the sensation was nearly _warm_. Out the shrine came a veritable torrent of paper, and soon Reimu gently followed it. Though she swayed in the sky freely and wore a satisfied expression, the drunken shrine maiden looked to be taking him on with all gravity.

Marisa woke up.

“Hunh? Whuh?” she mumbled, looking up to see a pair of bloomers and legs. “ _Hah?_ Uh, Reimu?” she asked, moving onto her elbows.

“If you’re gonna sleep, do it inside,” advised the shrine maiden to the magician under her.

“What’s goin’ on? You’re fighting?”

“I’m teaching Gen two lessons.”

Marisa’s expression was grave, and her answer of: “That’s somethin’, comin’ from a girl who’s never even had one,” was serious.

“Quiet,” answered the red and white girl, lifting more seals. Gen, watching, took to the skies. Reimu followed after him, and Marisa wrapped herself in her blanket, transfixed.

As Gen ascended, Reimu wasted no time tossing more of her charms. He moved in reverse, teeth grit while he avoided the shockingly fast projectiles. They screamed past his chest, through his legs, and he spun to have them miss his coat, but there didn’t seem to be a pattern to this, which had him perplexed. Certainly in spell card duels there were periods of play without any cards at all, but even those in-between rounds were marked by true and beautiful danmaku. Reimu seemed to be coming at him like this was not a match, but a hunt.

Eventually he bent his neck out the way of one final seal, and saw that Reimu had stopped; she simply stared at him with her warm eyes and face. Though he couldn’t imagine why she’d stopped, he decided not to bother theorizing and instead reached for one of his grimoires. At this moment, another slip of paper flashed forward, past his right ear.

His entire body reacted in surprise, and he turned to see that behind him Reimu had walled the sky in seals. More red, more white, stretching out as far as his sight seemed to allow. Then, it all came after him, while Reimu shot more to replace it.

Thus he was forced to dodge an avalanche of talismans as well as a constant volley of them from either front or back—whichever way he faced. Moving horizontally, forcing his body to turn, dive, and rise—and even stop, if it meant avoidance—he instantly realized that he had never moved liked this before. And, he quickly sobered up.

Gen didn’t waste his time shooting. He genuinely needed to aim everything he had at keeping “alive” instead. When Reimu noticed this inaction, she grew irritated and yelled, “Shoot, moron!”

“With you, everything’s ‘easier said than done’, huh?” he growled. Nevertheless, he released a tome from his belt, and bid it follow him. And, he breathed; ready to speak old words for his countering magic.

Whether it was affinity or that he’d simply gotten used to it by now, he truly felt comfortable casting from light. He could speak the praises of variety all he wanted, but he knew that if Itou Gen was ever pushed into a corner, sun- or moonlight was soon to follow. He hoped that one day he wouldn’t slip so readily into habit, but that day was not today. And admittedly: the Sun and the Moon were almost always available; he’d really almost be a fool to resist. And so, without a second thought, Gen called to the cosmos above, whereupon he gathered its rays and sent them flying at his opponent.

Danmaku play wasn’t only about dodging (outside of specific circumstance), so Reimu had been right (again), and he couldn’t neglect firing back even at the cost of his freedom of movement. At least he’d learned that, when focusing both, his rate of fire and the damage he could deal doubled, or more—not that slowing down was any sort of option here. Against Reimu’s patterns, he truly needed all speed.

He crossed left and right several times and very quickly, dowsing Reimu in sunlight whenever he passed her... but his delay to respond had left him without enough time. He naturally ran the round to its limit, and with a frown Reimu lifted her first spell card.

“Pretty pathetic,” she noted, and she said the card’s name: “Dream Sign: 'Evil-Sealing Circle'!”

_That’s the one she parodied with Marisa, right?_

When she’d “done” it earlier, she’d thrown only a single “bullet”. He had to imagine the true spell wasn’t like that. And, it truly wasn’t.

After her card dispersed into light, talismans began to flood out of her clothing in eight directions, cardinal and ordinal with her body as the compass pivot. It quickly appeared that every seemingly one paper “bullet” she sent out was in fact a packet of many. After a short distance, they seals divided and fanned, and as always in these fights the air was fast covered by a bullet curtain. The idea here reminded him of Alice’s “Benevolent French Dolls”, but the execution couldn’t have been more different.

Although Reimu directed nothing at Gen and indeed seemed to not be thinking about shooting at all, the “Evil-Sealing Circle” was undoubtedly an organized pain (unlike Alice’s spell, which consisted of unorganized, prismatic splashes). Paper lattices crossed into a locking cage, forbidding any large movements. As he flew between them (bothered at how the cage furthermore only allowed him to move laterally), looking out he got an impression to which nothing could be compared. Seeing these shrine maiden-colored chains surrounding everything – binding him on all sides, running overhead and underfoot – and the shrine maiden herself in the center of it all... he thought it was no wonder she was commonly called “red-white”. He knew: for a week on at least, he’d only be able to see these colors when he closed his eyes.

Just when he was becoming used to grazing the envelopes marked as though they were full of money (with “ooiri bukuro”; what on earth was that about?), Reimu swung her gohei. When she brought it down before her, she cast rings of pearls from her spirit (six around her) in rapid succession. The speed of their approach made him nearly back into a paper wall, but they didn’t actually seem to be seeking him out. Instead, they stopped a fair ways out from him, and when they did Reimu lifted her gohei. At once, the white orbs became red spades, and there began to move again.

“Aaagh...” Gen moaned as his expression melted into one of agony and his eyes glazed over. “Miss Reimu... are these the only colors you know?”

“Quit whining!” she yelled, still swinging her gohei and casting pearls.

 _It’s definitely amazing, but my poor eyes..._ he thought.

He squinted his way through her spell card. While this was a claustrophobic, commanding spell from the child; it was also fair. It certainly stole all his attention, and it was giving him a headache, but he could capture it, and after a measured struggle: he did.

“My turn, right?” he asked.

“You don’t need to ask,” she answered.

“How obnoxious should I make _my_ card?” he wondered aloud.

“Make it as obnoxious as you want, it won’t make any difference.” Her reply was blunt.

_This brat... I mean, she’s probably right, but—ah, oh yeah!_

_Think to win._

He decided to mimic his Master.

Patchouli had a magic inspired by the light filtered between branches that he liked for many reasons. It was a little difficult for him, but would still fall within Reimu’s limitations. First he would summon wood, then he would once more call on the Sun.

He removed another book from his belt (which flew above his right shoulder, opposing the one above his left) and began invoking the elements. From the right book, thin branches shot out toward Reimu and spread throughout the sky. From the branches, leaves sprouted and began to fall. The shrine maiden looked on curiously as the leaves slowly drifted toward her, expecting more. And, more soon came.

Gen’s left book began to channel the sky, and soon it fired light at the “wood” danmaku. When magic met magic, sunlight scattered in all directions. As his Master intended, it looked like the scene of a forest in summer. Once the wood and light had gone, he got into a pattern of doing this repeatedly, and earnestly tried to take Reimu down.

And Reimu... simply had her hands on her hips, and she was nonchalantly moving through some of the card’s greatest efforts. The little girl revealed a smirk as a ray passed by her eyes. “Hmph, I like it,” she affirmed. “Patchouli’s?” After asking, offensive energy sprouted out of her, and from there it went straight at him. As in, it _found_ him; it didn’t seem like she was consciously aiming any of it. In fact, she was definitely not paying attention to him at all—too enraptured by the pretty sights before her. He sucked his teeth. He didn’t know counterattacks could _do_ that...

With pale, red, square spirit slapping his side and splashing against his cheek, he squinted – winced, really – and answered, “Yes, it’s Master’s.”

“Can you do it easier or better with ingredients?”

“Come o—”

“You’re just casting from incantations!? Are ya STUPID!?”

Gen ignored Marisa and continued his spell unabated.

True enough, the biggest reason his Master could cast from her soul alone was that her soul was strong. Hers was a youkai’s soul—which was strong enough on its own, but his Master’s had been tempered by a good amount of years and practice. She could cast on, and powerfully, for quite a while. On the other hand he, a human, often found himself on his last legs after finishing a serious bout. Still... while he did not have his Master’s power, he nonetheless had her stubbornness and her pride.

Reimu shot him in the face one too many times, thus he drew his first card: “Sun Sign: ‘Noble Flare’.”

“Ah, ah, I remember this one,” Reimu commented with a small grin. Then she asked, “‘Noble’?”

It was another variation of his Master’s. Ideally, it was a “Royal” card with many double-layered waves of solar flares. He could only manage singles.

Marisa piped up again: “Maybe if you used magnesium or something, you could make it like Patchouli’s.”

“You’re not wrong,” he replied as his sorcery took effect. A triangle of solar fire formed between himself and Reimu, spinning outward. He had spoken and willed the magic to go a certain way, and he knew it would be simple for Reimu to dodge, but he had some hope the difference in density from what she already knew would throw her off. He’d summon, have the magic spin and wave, and do it again and again. At its best, this card looked like an orange and crimson screensaver. It wasn’t so pleasant on one’s face, however.

But as before, Reimu’s movements through his attack were effortless— _truly_ effortless. When Youmu, Marisa, and even Miss Sakuya were avoiding danmaku, he could always tell in their flight and faces that they were trying— or concentrating— or had _some_ awareness of the field. Everything Reimu did – from her thoughtless movements to her absentminded bullet-response – told him that this wasn’t just easy for her: it was as natural for her as breathing.

The shrine maiden proved to always, unfailingly, find a way through his spells. She would casually slip through gaps, stand still like nothing was coming only to have it all miss her, and, if she felt like it, she’d casually fly up to him to hit him with her talismans. Otherwise, energy would pour out of her regardless, and with that she hardly ever missed.

He went through three spell cards – of sun, of wood, and of both – as well as another undeclared pattern, and the unfair Reimu made it look like each time he was in actuality shooting at nothing at all. Supposedly, Marisa regularly beat this girl... He had to confess: _That’s amazing._

When her turn for assault came again, he refused to become disheartened. He faced two more Hakurei cards with “victory” in his head:

First, Kamikuji “Rule Violation Barrier”—

One that seemed to be based off of omikuji, and was an incredible and stunning response to his complaints over Reimu’s favorite colors. The young girl made the sky look like the inside of a forgotten and fantastical, crystal-wall grotto. She summoned innumerable ofuda of several colors, all soft and bright, but he did not realize that she was entirely trapping him for all the beauty she showed him. He was left like a man encased in gorgeous and magical stone, staring down at a glowing maiden surrounded by an unbound cave in the sky, whereupon Reimu summoned huge swathes of spiritual energy and ruthlessly pummeled him. This nearly forced his loss (as he wasn’t allowed to clear anything with a spell card) until he realized that he could slip out of the encasing seals before being trapped if he only moved carefully. While it was simple after that, his first failures were quite the embarrassments.

Second, Divine Spirit “Fantasy Seal -Blink-”—

He wanted it explained to him how it was supposed to be possible to capture this inhumane card. During it, Reimu began to slip through existence all around him and zoom about at absurd speeds; summoning charms from nowhere, _appearing_ from nowhere, and suddenly firing large cascades of bullets that nearly caused him to yelp in surprise all throughout. Indeed: he’d faced that card with unabashed confusion. Furthermore when he noticed she was still perfectly susceptible to fire and thus this was _not_ a survival card, he had cursed aloud.

It was madness to contend with, and eventually, while hanging about the center of the battlefield and worrying over where the shrine maiden would appear next, she then appeared behind him, whereupon she immediately had him overwhelmed by a violet tide.

And so, Gen was now on his back and on Reimu’s roof (which had not been cleared of snow). He heard Marisa call to him from below, “So you lost, huh?” Yes. He had.

_What the hell was that...? How was she moving during it? It wasn’t stopped time, was it?_

“Hmmm...” hummed Reimu as she descended close to him. She had a very puzzled look, twisting her lower lip and contracting her brow.

“What?” asked Gen.

“Well, considering you’ve only been doing this for about a year, and you’re being stupid about what spells you use, I think you’re doing pretty well.” Reimu pinched the same lip she kept squirming about. She revealed, “‘Pretty well’ can definitely get you killed here, though...” and stopped her pinching to move her hand to her hip, lifting the other to point at him with her gohei. She gave her final judgment then, “Your ‘pretty good’ is still terrible. It’s below average, and maybe only a little like someone from the village playing at extermination. I guess if you do dumb and dangerous stuff when you end up fighting a youkai, you’ll probably survive, but all it’ll take is you screwing up stupidly once, or getting worn out too quick, and then you might as well put yourself on a plate: you’ll just be dinner for any youkai that happen to pass by.”

He nodded to this. There was excitement in putting it all out there for a fight, but...

“Your skill can still be terrible, sure—” she continued, “— _most_ people are terrible—but it needs to be a better terrible than this, alright? Get that through your head.”

He certainly had to admit it: he’d probably grown too complacent.

“Fine,” he answered, “I’ll waste away in front of arsenic and mercury, then.”

“That’s the spirit!” cried Marisa. It was a lesson he’d learned early on in Gensokyo, but one he’d been choosing to ignore. Since Patchouli herself hardly used ritualistic or material-based offensive spells, she didn’t bother chastising him much over his choice. She’d already told him why he should use fueled magic. If he wanted to forego it and die, so be it; if he wanted to forego it and live, even better. She could _brag_ about that. In all honesty, he wasn’t happy about having her lose some bragging rights.

“We’re to fight again, aren’t we?” he asked Reimu, lifting himself up onto his rear. She did not reply. “... Reimu?”

He only noticed now that the light of the Sun was being obstructed. He looked up to see a little girl flying in the air with an enormous sphere above her head, held only with one hand.

They exchanged words.

“Is that the ball of ice?” he asked.

“It’s the Yin-Yang Orb,” she said.

With that, she threw it down. He scrambled out the way, knowing their next battle had already begun.

The black and white Taoist symbol was probably a head over his height in diameter, and when it crashed into the snow of the roof it sent the stuff out in a crashing wave. Shortly, he was covered in winter weather. He ended up on his stomach, and buried, and he could hear Reimu preparing a new volley of paper “bullets” behind him. This was no longer “play”. This would hurt. He needed a plan of action.

[] Quickly find some magical ingredients for better magic.

[] **Shenanigans.**

[] Simply fight as ordinary: to win.

<>

[X] Quickly find some magical ingredients for better magic.

* * *

Anchor: E9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2743523)

* * *

_Alright then: for starters, I need to get to Marisa._ He called on the air.

Reimu squinted as a wild vortex whipped up around her opponent, tossing away any seals she’d sent toward him and causing a few to slap into her face and over her eyes. She got caught in the strength of the wind as well, and could taste in the air that Gen’s own magical power was being used to bolster this. Reimu, light on her feet and even lighter off of them, was sent tumbling into the sky, and she found everything very disorienting very quickly. Soon, her cheeks turned green.

Gen, now uncovered, gazed upon the queasy, swirling maiden and bit down in concern. He really hoped she wouldn’t, but that girl was going to vomit.

He shoved himself from the roof, sliding down on his back, and kept his eyes fixed on Reimu (who has holding her mouth and stomach, and had nearly dropped her gohei). She was spinning, and would continue to spin for at least thirty more seconds. He dropped down to the floor just as he saw her dry heaving.

“Oof!” he voiced on his landing, saying next “Oh, god,” as he heard the always recognizable sounds of someone throwing up, followed by a _splatter_ , _plop_ , and a flurry of _splash_ es.

He felt... _really_ bad.

From above he heard an angry and despairing: “Oooeeeehhhgghh...! Blugh, guhh...”

He’d have to clean this mess later.

He turned around. Marisa was sitting, still in her blanket and looking up toward the source of the horrible sounds with a face of terror. She saw that Gen had fallen, blinked at him, and asked (or rather demanded to know): “What the _hell_ did you do?”

“I made a whirlwind. She’s drunk,” he explained, “I’m far less drunk. Rather sober actually. See? The sake bottle? That was mostly her.”

“Aah...” Marisa muttered with a miserable face, squinting at the empty vessel and sakazuki. She then huffed, and laughed, and said “Reimu’s such an idiot,” to herself.

“Well, the idiot will recover, and angry I’m sure,” he replied, still hearing terrible things overhead. “There’s something I must ask: could you give me some fuel to use in magic against her?”

“Huh? Wait... you’re... not doing a spell card duel anymore?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“No, this is her second lesson.”

“Huh, that so...” said the small girl, lifting a hand to her lips in thought. She was mulling something over. In a brief moment, he thought she in her gold colors looked rather charmingly cute... Perhaps that was why Miss Sakuya often acquiesced to her invasions and theft? ... No, that would be because she was Izayoi Sakuya. The thief’s cuteness had nothing to do with it.

He shook his head. “Well?” he asked.

“Well,” she answered, showing a very thin, _very_ worrying grin, “well, there’ll be a price for my stuff, y’see.”

“A price...?” _A book._ “Name it.”

“Nuh uh, I won’t name it.” Her grin opened for more of her teeth. “No, it’ll be a surprise. A surprise. _That’d_ be more interesting.”

 _“A surprise”...?_ his eyebrows twisted with this thought. Right now, Marisa looked wicked.

His magic would end soon, and after Reimu got her bearings again she’d come at him with all fury. He wasn’t liking the idea of possibly bargaining with Marisa here for his Master’s books. Or, if he didn’t want to betray Patchouli’s trust, he wasn’t liking the idea of possibly giving away the Rauðskinna (which was, technically, his). She’d love that book. She’d already tried to steal it before.

This was, of course, assuming that she wanted an item. A bit of him... thought she didn’t.

[] “Fine.”

[] “... I think I’ll just make due on my own.”

<>

[X] “Fine.”

* * *

Anchor: F9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1997200)

* * *

Marisa began to glitter.

Gen was briefly repelled.

After her grin had grown wide enough that he’d begun to mirror it, the girl shouted, “Great! Let’s get going, then!”

She leapt forward feet-first, casting off her blanket and grabbing on to Gen’s sleeve. This tugged him backward, and as he about fell over he took the opportunity to glance above the shrine and observe Reimu. She was no longer spinning _bodily_... but her eyes certainly were: resetting right to left rapidly, constantly, as she held her head and barely held on to her rod.

Marisa brought Gen to the snowman that she and Reimu had made in the morning (which he’d left unremoved). She tore off its witch’s hat (hers) and turned said hat upside down, at which point she drove a hand down into it, and rummaged through.

With Reimu’s near recovery, Gen’s patience was somewhat thin, and that was manifesting in how tensely he held his brow. He wouldn’t rush her, no, but watching the child go through a series of expressions (eyebrow up, glancing aside, grimace, tongue poked out... ) he did want to yell at her, “Look with your _eyes_ ,” in admonishment of her attempting to do so with _fingers_.

Her expression became pleased, happy, and she announced, “This!”—withdrawing three somewhat large, rather rotund flasks.

“Ah...” went Gen, upon eyeing their dull colors. “Basic concoctions I wager?”

“Just the stuff for any old magic!” declared the other magician. “You wanted fuel, I got that for ya! You can tell it’s pretty normal, huh? Not for specialization or nothin’, but you can work with it.”

“A mix of mushrooms and mustard seed?” he wagered.

“This and that,” said the girl. “Take it, quick!”

Marisa thrust the three round-bottom flasks toward him, and he grabbed them one by one, fitting each on his belt of items. The way this sort of thing worked was simple as could be: uncork your magical fuel, cast your spell with an invocation, glyph, or formula (making sure to indicate your magic will be using a third power to be cast), and the potion, mixture, stone or what ever would be “burned” away as needed. If he hadn’t taken the low road for Marisa’s aid, he’d have had to find some bits of things in this shrine (and, of course, the forests around it) to mash together and draw off of. While this _would_ work, it wouldn’t have been very easy—particularly given the season—nor quick.

Judging by how long Marisa had searched her hat, the little girl must have had much prepared. He’d also heard that the strange octagonal device she often flaunted about was a magical furnace that doubled as some sort of weapon. While he liked the idea of working off of one’s own strength entirely, he had some envy of her for that so-called “mini-Hakkero”. In the realm of the dark arts, such a multi-tool was beyond rarity: it was perfectly unique.

 _On that note_ , he thought, _I’d really rather not enjoy being on its receiving end._

He’d seen several “Sparks” since he’d first declined a demonstration, and it had him glad that today he faced Reimu and not Marisa.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5hak2ioKJUk> ]  
[Deceitful Wings (Album Mix) – Atelier Iris ETERNAL MANA Arranged Tracks - DECEITFUL WINGS- (Saitama Saishuu Heiki)]

“Thank you, Marisa,” said Gen, not looking at her, but instead moving his eyes back to the flying shrine maiden, who was growing ever more and more composed. “I’ll pay back whatever your price is later.”

“Nuh uh, you’re gonna pay it now,” Marisa chirped at his side. Now he looked at her, inquiringly, to see that she was shaking her head.

The elder and less powerful magician, presently bent to a knee in front his better, let out a sigh and spoke in exasperation. “Alice is right,” he began. “Gensokyo’s too unreasonable...” Returning his gaze to Reimu, he offered these words to the witch-child, “Listen, Marisa: right now Reimu’s furious, and she’s unbridled. I can’t be playing your games.”

“Mm, yeah, this ain’t the time for playin’ around.”

“Hn?” With this grunt, he looked at Marisa again.

In a genial mood, she carefully replaced her hat onto the snowman’s head. She held a hand out to her left and from a distance a broom flew fast toward her. Gen, unprepared for this, at once lifted his arm and grit his teeth as winds came fast and strong with it, whipping out and smacking his cheeks once the young witch snatched the handle from the air. The superior magician smirked at her lesser reflection. “Hey Gen,” she addressed him, with no weight in her words, “you don’t remember when we first met, do ya?”

“I do remember,” he answered.

“Then you forgot,” she said. Marisa then pulled the broom behind her and sat back on it with a small bounce, impossibly floating before him. With her right hand raised, palm to the sky, she pointed at him playfully. One of her eyes shone bright beneath her hair, marking gold sharp beneath gold soft. “Guess you thought I was kiddin’ when I said I really wanted to fight an outsider like you.”

“Marisa—” he began to protest.

“Fair’s fair, Gen.” She shrugged, and rose up as she spoke, “And a promise is a promise! At three flasks’ cost, I’m gonna kick your butt!”

“ **Geeeeen...** ”

Gen stood up quick, and every hair on his body rose shivering with him. A deep growl had fallen from a red, white, and green little girl above him. The girl cast her gaze down next, and lifted her rod up while speaking again, “I said you shouldn’t hold back, but I didn’t mean you should be cowardly and cheap instead.”

“Reimu!” shouted Marisa. “Lemme help out!”

“I don’t need your help,” Reimu answered with stony finality.

“You’ll get it anyway,” Marisa rejected, pulling something out of her dress.

“Fine,” the maiden dismissed. She was too focused now, and explained her ethos plainly: “At any rate it’s not my fault if someone like this ends up dust on my shoes today.”

“You said it!”

His mind returned to his first fully-cognizant night in Gensokyo, and he thought:

* * *

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3302385)

* * *

_This has gone very badly for me._

Reimu had become much more sobered, and Marisa beside and before her wore unabashed thrill in her grin. The girl with power unbidden wanted to overwhelm him now with it, and the girl with power she had built wanted just to unleash it however she was allowed. He was below them, and reminded of Patchouli’s fire.

But, contrary to his first night, where fire was held in his hands in defense of his life...

Today, he was roused to feel fire purely burning within him.

Once the cold terror of facing true power had washed away, it was replaced in his chest with this blazing exhilaration. Itou Gen, knowing that in this duel there was no safety—only the perhaps-mercy to cling to of two children with dubious morals—was unmistakably excited. Reimu and Marisa were strong, but neither was “Yuuka”. He felt in facing them another oncoming reprise of his first night: near-to-grasp triumph.

This showed, trembling, on his face.

“That smile...” Reimu spoke with disgust, “you haven’t learned anything, huh? Not one thing.”

Gen took and floated two of his books from his belt, and denied her with a simple, “Nah,” following with an avowal:

“I’ve learned very much, Miss Reimu.”

“Well then enough of that. Learn that you’re weak!”

The sky was flooded with auras, and a spark went off from the thing in Marisa’s hand, briefly showing the girl who’d for a moment become a shadow in Reimu’s light.

Itou Gen gave a “tut”, and began to talk in a dead tongue.

And fantasy came forth.

Kirisame Marisa aimed at Gen with her signature “Master Spark”, while Hakurei Reimu sent the colors of her soul out to seek him on their own. The grounds burst with power and light: it was the strength of an incredible ray, flanked by pure religious might, and after the crash came the girls winced to the touch of vapor.

“Wet!” Marisa called. “Wet!? Did we accidentally do him in?”

“Doubt it...” Reimu mumbled. She told her friend, “That’d be too anticlimactic.”

Their first volleys and the aftermath of them dissipated, and both girls squinted through the settling dust.

“That’s... eh? A water screen?”

Marisa had observed what looked to be a sheet of water, but she knew this to be an impossibility. The amateur they were facing could _not_ have shielded himself—and at the least, not with a water layer. She saw soon that what seemed to be a sheet was more similar to a grid: many diamond shapes of liquid glinting before them and, as was apparent from any attempt at scrutinizing, toying with the light. She was sure of it: this was an illusion-maker.

“Heard about this...” Marisa started, looking up and around the grounds, “he’s squirrely,” she explained, “he’ll try hiding when he’s outgunned.”

“I’m not allowing a ‘flight’ option... Geh, I still feel sick,” Reimu grumbled her thoughts while she continued to squint through Gen’s misdirecting field. Marisa cast her a confused glance, but didn’t question this obviously futile act. Still, Reimu answered the question never asked:

“That weasel couldn’t have gotten out of the way on just his feet or by flying. He’s...” she stopped her talk and lifted her eyebrows. In the little snow left on the grounds she saw a telltale spiral that traced fast and just-gone movements. Traced them— “... there!”

Unfolding a hand of seals, Reimu quickly turned left and spotted her target with his back against a tree (and evidently rather in pain). He pulled himself from the trunk and almost collapsed, wincing up at her. The little runt seemed to have hurled himself with air to attempt an escape.

“Just running and running and running...” Reimu commented although thus far he had ran very little, “you’re gonna make me feel like the bad guy!”

She threw her charms.

“Wai—! Reimu!” Marisa raised a complaint too late, and Reimu saw what it was intended for as her papers severely missed their mark. The shrine maiden scowled, knowing immediately what had gone wrong and quickly shaking her head just to be sure. As she’d gathered, Gen’s little water diamonds had scattered very far, in part (it seemed) because of her and her friend’s assault having scattering them. She quickly readjusted given the error, but when she tossed a second and true-aimed volley, the novice magician swung himself into the forest and her ofuda met only tree bark instead.

“Tch! No!” she spat.

“Don’t let him run off!” Marisa followed.

The two pursued immediately, Reimu’s zeroed patience going negative at the thought of this audacious battle.

Rushing on foot through the forest, Gen skid to a halt when he heard Marisa’s call for chase. He was setting something up for himself, and he didn’t intend to hide forever as he’d done with Patchouli. Any possible win from that wouldn’t grant him much satisfaction now. He would, however, be very pleased with a win from a handicap.

Gen pointed toward his two opponents and spoke ancient words. One bottle of his uncorked, he called to storm and stem. The books beside him began paging rapidly and smoke poured out the bottle’s mouth. If he were to give this spell a name, it would be “The Play of Nymphs”. The snowy tree tops erupted from the force of broken and flying branches, and winds too came to push forward a refreshingly scented and irritating-to-face wall of nature, stopping the girls and getting them to cover their eyes as well. In the respite he had seized, he kicked air from his heels and shot toward the shrine, and beneath the two. Glancing back after passing under them, he saw that they hadn’t noticed him, and breathed out with relief. This would grant him opportunity to get to work. With that in mind, the young apprentice opened his coat, and removed a scroll.

A minute passed at the forest edge, and there his spell had begun to stop. The result: one Marisa with a leaf between her lips, and one Reimu with her hands up, eyes shut, and hair a mess.

“This is a youkai’s work,” said the maiden, “I’m gonna exterminate him.”

“Whoa, that was more like fairy work don’tcha think?” Marisa asked.

“Fairies, youkai, maids, and butlers all get me angry and ALL GET PUNISHED!” the child thundered, gripping her gohei as if she intended to bleed it.

“Heh? Maids, huh? Ha ha ha!” Marisa only laughed.

Then, the two of them lurched forward at once, both having been struck on the backs of their heads by bolts of light. They turned to see that Gen was now behind them, and flying in the space where they’d began. They also saw many more bolts of light, radiating out from him like a planetarium’s show, and now rushing toward them. It was, truly, a certified curtain of bullets.

“G-Guh, I can’t deal with this!”

“It’s not that bad, but...”

The two handled his attack very differently—Marisa’s gripping and turning her broom with all her might, Reimu dodging with mild concern (a sight rarer than certain legendary flowers)—but both seemed to agree that something was definitely wrong with it. They were quick to pick up that the innumerable water crystals that Gen now guarded himself with of course not only affected their perception of where he was, but also _where_ his bullets _came from_.

“You’re just a completely dirty fighter, aren’t you!?” snapped Reimu.

“No, no!” he insisted. “This is just what happens when I don’t like my odds.”

“I don’t wanna hear about your odds!” Reimu nonsensically whined. Still having little problem dodging, she pointed at him emphatically and continued, “This is pathetic! You’re completely like a youkai, acting like this!”

“No, no,” he reaffirmed, “This is just a desperate human’s way of fighting.”

“Ghh, you piss me off!” Reimu was now flooding seals out her sleeves like she’d done before in their previous fight, but instead of sending them, she was amassing the slips behind herself. Gen did not neglect goading her.

“This is supposed to be a fight as I’d fight if I wanted to win, right!? If that’s the goal, then a coward’s win you’ll get!”

“Moron!” she shouted. “Don’t talk about winning! Get that thought out of your head!” And with no hesitation, she sent forth her ofuda.

As she’d found aiming to be useless, they came as they came. Completely without pattern, Reimu had Gen awash in papers. However, this randomness alone was not very concerning—he had fair enough skill keeping out the way of it all (at least, it wasn’t as bad as Alice’s awful spell). What _was_ concerning was realizing that Marisa hadn’t said a word in about two minutes.

“Hey Gen!”

Marisa’s voice.

His right ear twitched.

“Taste this!”

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Marisa with her tool aimed, and already firing at him wave after wave of pretty-colored cosmos—all turning, grand, like the most beautiful pictures of galaxies. Dangerous, yes... yet he found himself matching her smile, and he faced it the stars gladly. Soon it came to pass that the scene over Hakurei Shrine had become a display of madness: charms intersected with stars, and their intended target flit about within a small space, casting light in all directions. On either side, missing was plentiful.

“Can’t aim well yourself, huh?” asked Marisa. “Kind of a pain of a fight like that, though.”

He did not answer her, caught up in his dodging. Reimu, however, followed up:

“So you’re not so cheap that you’d avoid crippling yourself? That’s a surprise, Gen.”

He did not answer her either, because in fact he absolutely _had_ avoided exactly that.

On the inner shrine’s floor, weighed by a trio of tea cups, was a scroll refining a certain student’s magic. In the glyph was outlined the call to cast vision (itself the reflection of light) astray, sight always confused by many “mirrors” (in the form of water droplets). They were, however, one-way mirrors.

Light from within at his place above the shrine would not be tampered with, but all light without was fair game. Part of his gambit was to hustle the girls... and it seemed to have worked. He ceased his bolts and began to gather light above his hand while keeping aware of his opponents’ attacks. Also, he opened another of his borrowed bottles; his first was already almost completely done from the hybrid magic he was now using to protect himself.

Gen clenched his fist, invoking the sun once more, and with a shout he summoned spokes of solar energy, spinning around his sky-directed fingertip. The spokes rose into columns, slowly wrapped one each around the other, and shortly became a brilliant spiral of orange and white. Piercing the heavens now was a sword beyond imagination, and with no hesitance he brought that sword down on Reimu’s head.

“Ha!” the shrine maiden didn’t hesitate to laugh at this ploy, She confidently stood still, knowing Gen had no better aim than her, and while she thought to perhaps graze it... she was entirely engulfed in refined sunlight. And again, this had been before she’d heard Marisa’s demand to _not_ do whatever she was intent on doing.

Reimu wasn’t tumbled to earth, but the blast of the ray did send her reeling and force a tree to act as her catcher’s mitt. She wound up looking like a poor thing caught in a spider’s web, and there she began to press her nails into the soft flesh of her palms. Now Reimu delivered hate to Gen simply through her eyes. But, quickly, she stopped. She closed her gaze and exhaled, and Gen knew what she was going to do as soon as she positioned her gaze, sober, once more upon him. Surely... if she couldn’t aim at him, then _she_ wouldn’t. Her might would instead speak and aim for her.

Marisa had stopped firing when Reimu took her hit, but she had since started up again. Now she was keeping a steady stream of misguided lasers and bullets going in his direction, barely containing her laughter all the while. Reimu’s sorry state had evidently very much gotten to her. At this juncture, sidestepping starlight and keeping an eye on Reimu, Gen knew he had to make a choice.

Reimu would sweep away his illusionist screen and leave him exposed to herself and Marisa’s unfiltered powers. After that, he had to determine _who to go after_ and _how_.

Reimu was dangerous, but she had finally calmed down. On the other hand that meant she would probably be serious from now on. He thought at this point, she might actually leave him with some kind of scar.

However, despite the sobered glare, the girl was still clearly drunk. In their fight so far she’d still hitched here and there, and wobbled or nodded poorly at times that she definitely hadn’t wanted to. Indeed thrice he’d seen her hit by one of his bullets of light, all due to those involuntary mishaps.

And Marisa... Marisa was only _maybe_ dangerous. The girl was not seriously coming at him... but, why did he get the feeling that if he took Reimu out, she would stop being a mere supplement and instead face him properly as a true and frightening threat? _Reimu’s_ specialty was _youkai extermination_ , and he was not a youkai; it stood to reason that although she could threaten him all she liked, it was not like _ly_ that falling against her would mean any particularly great loss.

Marisa, on the other hand: he was quite sure that Marisa could accidentally take off his head with an errant (or indeed true) magical cannon.

Really, they were both... _such_ awful children.

Besides a choice of target, he needed a strategy with either as well... Would he go on the defensive as defense was now a viable option? Might he attempt an offense? What to do to win this? And, should he risk moving out of where he found himself now?

First, who would he try to take out?

[] _Reimu._

[] _Marisa._

And then, how?

[] _Go on the defensive._

[] _More bullets._

[] _Try to get in strong, concentrated attacks. Or, at least one._

[] _Some other trick?_

_[] Fight on fair ground._

And finally, his positioning...

[] _Remain stationary._

[] _Fly around._

<>

[X] _Reimu._  
[X] _Some other trick?_  
[X] _Remain stationary._

* * *

Anchor: G9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2855211)

* * *

_Yep, and with that... let’s go._

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TuU-Se7GFnI> ]  
[Mystic Oriental Love Consulation (End of Century Ver.) – Touhou Hisoutensoku (U2 Akiyama)]

Gen threw off his coat.

“The heck are you doin’!?” Marisa asked as he tore away his scarf as well. Reimu asked nothing, only wordlessly emerging from branches as spiritual energy slipped out her chest and flowed from her arms.

The Magician’s Apprentice pulled a gatherer’s knife from his belt, his clothing held aloft behind him with words. Marisa stopped her assault to watch, curious beyond reason as to what he was attempting. “You should keep that shooting up,” he told her, “if you don’t want me to win this.”

“Cocky guy...!” Marisa exclaimed, raising her handheld furnace. Gen took the knife he used to cut materials from nature and cut into his left palm through the glove. All the while he chanted, not faltering to the pain of the wound, and he bid his blood to move as Marisa sent an avalanche of stars. He dodged without looking.

Fingers twitching, eyes on Reimu, Gen cast black magic. Nothing too ill, nothing at all fatal, but his experience with the Rauðskinna had not only scared him, it had also given him ideas. His Master thought that was good. “It’s too early for you to specialize,” she’d said, “branch out all that you can.” Now in a dark voice he told his life essence to run through his coat’s sleeves, and down where his spine would be. Crimson rivulets streamed around him, whipping into place. His invocation ended, his magic was set. Reimu raised her gohei over her head, and he told his coat to dance.

“Fantasy Seal!” yelled the shrine maiden, and familiar effulgence leapt from her back. Knife in hand and palm still bleeding, he welcomed it, whispering to the forces of the world in hopes to trick that light. He knew that those auras shot for the “enemy”, and now he had a doppelganger on the field.

Reimu’s attack was the equivalent of a spell card duel’s “clear”, and his Master had described it as one of the more irritating kinds. It didn’t like to miss. In most cases, any bullet, fairy, youkai, or foe human before the shrine maiden would receive it. He intended to use that to his advantage.

He returned his knife to its place and raised his hand above himself. He called to the dancing coat as beautiful colors threatened to blind him all around. Reimu’s barrage swallowed everything else: it consumed Marisa’s cosmos and swept up his water-light shield, disrupting it entirely. It also swung for him and, more importantly, his robe. Like an eager child casting a net through clouds of moths and butterflies, Gen sent his robe-wearing blood through it all. Desperately, he bid it to receive as many colorful orbs as it could, and thankfully there were not _too_ many as this attack seemed more about might than multitude. And, once an orb was struck, it was spent. That said it was nevertheless terrifying to be engulfed.

Reimu’s spiritual power felt godly to him. He hadn’t yet met any gods, but pulling himself through gigantic white vortices and grazing near pale and pretty lingering shades granted him the distinct sense that he was facing something bigger than himself—larger than life, as it were. If he told Reimu this, he had a feeling she’d tell him she was only human, but this kind of strength... It was as if he was being made to catch and dodge ethereal mountains. Throwing his clothing into the penultimate sphere, he cursed to find a much smaller one hiding behind it. It _rammed_ him in his side, and nearly made him drop out of flight.

In the wake of the attack, Marisa had stopped again, and Reimu was glaring at him, still before the trees. His robe and scarf hardly resembled themselves anymore: they were strips of dark and light cloth, mixed with twitching blood. He held his side—Reimu’s last “seal” had torn open his vest and shirt, revealing a reddened abdomen. He admitted aloud: “That’s going to bruise...” To himself he admitted, _That counted as a kind of puppetry, didn’t it?_

He knew both girls would not remain in awe long, so he looked at his precious ex-coat and scarf and, knowing this was foolishness, whispered the words to return them to their original states. “Time” heeded the request, and both items wove themselves back from nothing with speed. However, with this done he now felt lightheaded. It had fast drained his spirit, leaving comparatively very little. Nonetheless, he redid the enchantment once the clothes had rewound (his ripped-open shirt and sliced glove included).

Marisa made a noise of “Whoahohh...” beside him, and he heard Reimu preparing another volley as paper sounded against paper.

The little magician continued to talk. “You just used an enchantment to bring those clothes back, but...” she began, and he saw that she was rubbing her chin now, “... that looked like it was high level: time/space magic for your clothes. It’d be nothing with a few nicks but you brought it back _from_ nothing.”

Gen answered her, but he was now dodging Reimu’s danmaku again, and without the mirage-inducing water to protect him he had to make a greater effort. Thus, his answer was through grit teeth while he worked to pull back on his coat and scarf (it was cold!). “Thank you, Marisa—” he growled, pushing an arm through a sleeve and keeping out the way of paper bullets “—yes, yes; that is what I did.”

“That had to have left you almost dead. Like, I can’t even imagine that was just ‘reversed time’. How did that work? Why’d you even DO that?”

He glanced at her, firing magic at Reimu (who had no problem dodging anymore) and settling his mind. “This clothing is a gift,” he told her, “it’s among my more important ones. Anyway, I thought you wanted to fight. I’ve seen two Fantasy Seals, where’s the second Master Spark?”

“Hahaha!” laughed Marisa in childish mirth. “Alright,” she said, “I’ll end this for ya.”

And to that, he opened the last bottle.

Gen was in nearly top form in this fight. He’d realized it, but had no time to dwell on his accomplishments. During any second he was thinking of what to do in the next, and he was carefully, immaculately, planning every one of his minutes. “Exhilarating” was no longer enough to name this feeling of what was at this point primarily arrogance rushing through his core. Though he didn’t pick apart the reasons why, he knew he’d earned this wicked pride. Watching the mini-Hakkero in Marisa’s hand, he spoke so quickly that he worried for his tongue, and he spoke so darkly he worried for his soul. Eyes wide and pupils constricting, he allowed himself a thought in keen bliss: _Seriously, I just can’t get enough of magic._

“Master Spark!” came the call he wanted to hear, and with two vibrant tomes and a word he ripped the orb of snow water in the yard asunder, creating the explosive sound of a splash.

“Aahhh!!” screamed Reimu, and he imagined she must have been grabbing at her hair. She continued to shout, “Wasn’t that a gift!? That was a gift, wasn’t it!?”

He’d already drained a fair amount of it in order to supply the glyph in Reimu’s house that had manufactured his queer lightshow. Now he was summoning it and linking it together with the rays of the Sun. The idea was simple and absurdly risky: he would create a reflector.

Marisa’s vast and overbearing spark erupted, and a giant and shining lens crafted of water and light swirled in front of Gen to meet it. _Once_ they had met, the boy magician physically (with arms out), and along with a many-worded phrase, shifted the water to an angle that would aim the cannon to his side. Marisa’s beam of starlight and love was thus redirected, and Reimu, never expecting this, received it suddenly and almost fully. Only the brunt of Marisa’s strongest move could be reflected by the magic lens, and the “love” of it all went through (“love”, it turned out, brought a warm and dull pain). The water did not last long, and Gen soon found himself bathed in the black and white magician’s girlish light... just, thankfully, he was not submerged long. Reimu was not so blessed.

In the wake of the blast, the two magicians looked to where the shrine maiden had been, one anticipating and the other dumbfounded. The tree that had caught Reimu before had been blown away. Reimu herself laid motionless, facedown, on the stones below. Gen became thrilled at once, face aglow and smile toothy. The young man pumped his fist and cried, “Ye- _heah!_ Can’t do THAT in a spell card duel!” with an emphatic point at the little girl he’d cheaply beaten. Something to note was that he was, once again, wearing a very ragged outfit.

“Ya really did that...” Marisa whispered, still staring at Reimu (who was, apparently, breathing). “I mean, it wasn’t perfect, but you just redirected my Master Spark. That’s crazy...” Now she looked at him, and he returned her stare. “I guess I’ve gotta make it stronger,” she said.

“I won’t stop getting stronger myself, you know?” he said with a smirk still showing his teeth. “Though, again, it’s not as though I can pull off that nonsense in a sanctioned duel.”

With that said, Gen breathed out to calm himself, straightened up, and informed the other magician: “Alright, I’m worried about Reimu so I’m going to make the rest of this quick.”

Marisa shook her head. “Now you’re gettin’ _too_ cocky,” she said. “You’re runnin’ on fumes, you’ve got sake in your belly, and I’m over here barely even crackin’ a sweat. It _is_ cold, though.” She shrugged.

Gen chuckled weakly. “No kidding...” he said, “yeah, that was mostly in jest. This isn’t looking good for me.”

“Won the battle, about to lose the war,” said the blond girl. “How much of my potions have you got left?”

He shook his head and answered, “Not.”

“Well,” Marisa said, absently tossing her magic furnace up and catching it again in steady, repeated, and confident motions, “that’s a shame for you, I guess.” She grinned.

Despite what he’d just said, Gen had still taken Reimu’s advice before this all to heart: he did not want to lose against Marisa; he assuredly wanted to win. He couldn’t take much more punishment, however, and the hits he had already taken were reducing his dodging effectiveness. He also knew from how she had reacted previously, her words and her trade: Marisa was fairly wise to his tricks. In fact Marisa herself seemed very weasel-ish, though he knew she had pride in her power rather than her wiles. At any rate, he didn’t like his odds on trying to fool her a... what? Fifth time?

Ideally he would simply match her and win. Marisa was not superhuman like Reimu. She was fast, and clearly an expert at danmaku, but she was not capable of slipping through space (somehow) and casting insidious patterns that she didn’t even have to think about to craft. Still, she was strong, and by God he was weak—especially now.

Marisa caught her mini-Hakkero a final time and told him, “I’m not gonna go easy on you just ‘cause I know you’re hurtin’.”

 _Great,_ he mused, _I actually_ did _think I might be able to appeal to mercy, here_...

But... in a show of his expected outcome, Gen rewound his clothes once more.

Marisa whistled. “Maaan,” she drawled, “you don’t think I’ll even _hit_ you?”

It wasn’t that he simply thought he could manage this, it was that he _had_ to think so. Odds could be damned; he wanted to finish this 2-1.

“Nice eyes,” said Marisa.

And he...

[] faced her in absolute fairness.

[] became mobile, hoping cover and wide movement would save him.

[] went to find Marisa’s hat.

[] decided to forfeit. This was getting rough, and he still had get back home.

<>

[X] went to find Marisa’s hat.

* * *

Anchor: H9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1644001)

* * *

“... W—! Whoa now!” Marisa spoke in shock.

He had dropped down past the roof of the shrine and out of her sight, and she wasn’t much for tracking magic. Marisa pursued, went past the ridge, and saw him stealing her hat from off the snowman she’d left it on.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Thief!”

Gen put the hat onto his head and shot her a glance, saying, “To thieve from a thief shouldn’t be called thievery.”

“Come on, I’m not a thief,” she rebuffed with a frown. She then shouted again as Gen kicked over the snowman, screaming, “Aahh!! A devil! You’re a devil!”

Gen said nothing, only fiddling with the brim of Marisa’s hat while staring at the snow pile below and toeing it. Marisa continued to hesitate, which he had expected; she wanted to see what he was up to, and probably also didn’t want to potentially damage her own hat. Confirming the softness of the heap, he took said hat from his head and began to shake the thing out over it.

Marisa continued being flustered, hurriedly patting through her clothing in search of something. While vials and bottles were dumped from her hat into the safety of snow, Marisa found a few more in her pockets, but judging from her expression there weren’t as many as she’d have liked. As Gen had suspected, Marisa kept the majority of her things in her hat.

Soon it was empty and he observed the spoils. There were several mushrooms and six concoctions. He flipped the hat over in his hands and squinted into it, mumbling, “No trick or magic...? How do you fit all that in here?” It wasn’t too big a hat.

He felt Marisa’s eyes on him, and also a distinct intention of harm. Thus, quickly guessing at the contents of each glass container (identification was necessary, as Marisa seemed to have already given him all of her generic magic supplements), he took up a vial that seemed to contain blue gel and a captured, gently undulating bolt of white lightning. With this in hand, he leapt back at once—a sharp laser striking through where his thigh had been. It burned the stone, and he wondered if it might have pierced his skin were he any slower.

Flying backward and placing the hat once more on his head, he peeked with one eye at Marisa above, seeing her directing a beam of light with her furnace to where she thought he’d go. The Milky Way, too, looked to be dropping from the bristles of her broom, churning in the air, and then shooting forth in spiraling paths. He ascended in avoidance and thumbed his chosen vial open.

He brought himself up before the woods and above the trees, having twisted awkwardly but successfully through Marisa’s magic. He needed to better scrutinize the concoction, and Marisa certainly knew this. Not wanting him to have that time, she tossed her mini-Hakkero over her shoulder and gripped the bamboo of her broomstick. Shortly a whining sound started up, and began to grow in volume. Gen across from her got the proverbial “bad feeling” once more, and before he could blink she was flying toward him with the look and power of a comet.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OcR7bKG7EBs> ]  
[童祭 ～ Innocent Treasures – 闡提宗祀 ～ Offering to The Sukhavati (Demetori)]

He dropped once more, shifting side to side when enormous red and blue stars at least the size of her fell from the girl at intervals. Marisa passed by in a blinding flash with a loud, machine-like hum, and he noticed as he fell that his cuff had not evaded the attack. He landed and swore, but cut off a potential tirade.

He had stopped before Reimu.

Still hearing the hum of Marisa’s charge, but not the strange high-pitched noise which had signaled her revving up before, Gen swept the fallen child up in his arm and over his shoulder. In his thoughts he remarked, _She’s light._

His ears perked up to the sound of the whine again, and he turned to see a shining point through the trees. He uttered a quiet, “No way”, held Reimu ‘round her back tightly, and shot left before Marisa could blast through the forest in a shower of snow and branches. In the ensuing madness of nature and spellwork, he caught the look on her face as she passed. She returned his gaze, her expression of thrill changing to one of concern in the brief moment they were close. Marisa rocketed over the grounds and returned to the sky while more stars were left in her wake. She came to a halt above him, and below their battlefield was marked with drifting danmaku of no pattern or reason. He thought it looked rather fantastic, and said so with a smile: “Fantastic.”

Marisa was not smiling.

“You’re a real son of a gun, aren’tcha? Kicking people—” he interjected, “snowmen” “—over, grabbin’ up maidens, stealin’ stuff and trickin’ folks...” Marisa finished her complaints by closing her eyes and crossing her arms, saying, “You’re a villain, Gen.”

Gen, who was peering into the vial he’d nicked (now held at his fingertips) to ascertain its purpose, paused at this accusation and pointed at Marisa while still holding the glass. “Correction:” he stated, “I’m a survivor, Kirisame Marisa.”

“You know I’m gonna be more careful now that you’re holding that shrine maiden,” she grumbled, squinting down at him.

He casually indicated to the witch’s hat with his thumb and added, “The hat, too. I imagine you don’t want that taking much damage.”

“Thinking of everything, huh?” she asked.

Gen answered as he stepped forward, heading toward the fallen snowman. “In the most despicable ways I can,” he admitted, following with, “since I really do want to finish this quickly.” With that, he dropped the opened vial into the snow, and began to incant.

Marisa’s expression soured further. With misery, she recognized some of the dead words he spoke.

“Damn it...” she swore. “Figured out it was for light, huh?” She retrieved the mini-Hakkero from its floating place behind her broom and began to wonder what to do.

The liquid and lightning in the glass was coaxed out of it in a stream of glitter. From what he could tell, it was comprised of luminescent plants and phosphorescent sands. The mixture, supplemented with his spirit, gathered over Gen’s open palm and started becoming whole. _It’s nearly evening and we’re losing day..._ he mused with a smirk as he took flight once more. _How about some bonus night, now?_

Soon enough a pale and dusty sphere had manifested for him: small, but powerfully radiant with cold and mysterious light. He looked upon it with satisfaction, and then smugly met eyes with Marisa again. The moon was rising.

The young girl on her broom took a readied stance, he whispered to the sister moons, and with a pair of violent winds, the two magicians danced in the sky.

From here on out the Magician’s Apprentice held a unique position of offense and defense. He went as near to Marisa as was feasible, and Marisa neglected to create any distance in turn. After all, she needed the afforded accuracy—he would continually turned in such ways that many of her attempts at spellcasting were stopped at once, for fear of striking the wrong mark. He would put Reimu between her and him, or get the hat in the way, and in either case would snipe at her with either the moon in the sky or the one in his hand—really, whichever it was that he determined she wasn’t giving proper attention in the moment. Truthfully, the two rounded one another like dogs chasing tails.

Marisa would grunt as she pulled back from a laser out his coat, and Gen would laugh as she relented to the presence of her friend. Still, despite his place of unfair and forged advantage, he knew that missteps here could prove fatal. They both knew this, and their movements reflected that in with their tense, sudden, and irregular pace.

Naturally he struck her several times, and often from a blind spot as she bent her head away and received a flash to her stomach or back. Further, Gen kept small patterns of diamond moonlight in rotation around them so that even if she wished escape, it would not be simple. For her part Marisa pushed him back—toward the stars she’d made when charging at him before—and she occasionally dropping bolts of starlight that would scream upward in attempts to get her opponent from below. But, his devious and twisting movements always limited her boldness. They both knew: this was as close as witches and wizards could get to swordsmen holding blades at one another’s throats.

In a moment, Gen swept behind Marisa, and the black and white magician raised her brow upon noticing that no white bled from his coat. So she reared back, and two beams of the brightest light crossed just over her fingertips. It seemed the less experienced magician had dropped his moon behind to float in the air, hoping to catch his senior in a pincer attack. She grew frustrated, thinking this battle held too much delicacy, and as she disclosed this feeling in her gritting teeth, Gen leapt forward with her stolen and most precious property in his hand.

She turned just enough to see his leap and prepared to, in desperation, fall from her broom. But, before she could roll over and drop, he returned to her her hat, pulling it onto her head with a joyous cry of “Here!”

“Whagh—!?” the child exclaimed. She then dropped her furnace, caught it in a hurry (though she nearly fell in the attempt), and smashed her other hand onto her head to try and pull the brim from her eyes. As she felt panic crawling up her spine, she heard Gen speak the name of a spell card, and she ground her teeth again.

“Moon Sign!” he shouted, grinning in flight behind her once more with a hand and card out to her back. He kept Reimu secure with his left, and declared, “‘Sleep Forever, Endymion’!”

With two lunar sources, the sky at once became a sea: with water and waves comprised of shining moonlight. Marisa, bamboozled by Gen’s madcap move and stinging from what hits he’d landed earlier, attempted to dodge solely on instinct. However, she was not Reimu. She was hit almost immediately to quickly enter a downward spiral, clothes torn apart and body struck all over until she fell into the shrine’s rooftop in a loud, snowy, and to-Gen satisfying crash.

In the early night sky, Itou Gen rewound the cuff of his cloak, pointed at the fallen child, and with the gesture of a shooting gun, boasted a “Bang!”

~~

* * *

Anchor: I9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2044328)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9pr203senog> ]  
[紅白の影 – Silver Scenery (Hachimitsu-Lemon)]

“And... this too, I guess.”

“Incense? Nah, you don’t need any of that.”

“Just thought it might be nice...” Gen put a bundle of such sticks back where he’d found them in a cupboard of Reimu’s home. Marisa, who was speaking with him, was resting beside the homeowner in bed. He’d carried the two of them inside after his dishonorable victory, and although Marisa had been conscious at the time (and complaining), Reimu still had yet to wake. He’d prepared her ginger tea and the two of them had taken care of her nauseous, battered, drunken self while she slept all the while. The little girl magician between the two had bathed the shrine maiden (and herself) as well, and as compensation for using some of her things to take care of the girl Gen had left Reimu a seven thousand en donation (and a note, so that she knew who had left it).

All of this hadn’t taken very long (it was still early evening), and by now he was sure the two of them were alright. After the elation of victory had passed he felt somewhat disappointed in himself... but _only_ somewhat. He had at least to admit that under anything like ordinary circumstances, the two little girls now in bed behind him would have swept the grounds with him easily. He could evaluate himself like this from the battle: he had certainly learned a lot in half a year, hadn’t he? And now, at least for some time, he would not neglect ingredients and mixtures.

“But man,” spoke Marisa, causing Gen to turn to her in attention and lean into Reimu’s sink, “I’m kinda pissed, Gen. You didn’t even give me a chance to use the spell card I made from watchin’ Patchouli.”

“Oh, right,” he whispered in a bit of a mumble, “you had mentioned that.” Marisa looked genuinely frustrated, and once more he felt a little bad about his victory. “Tell you what,” he said while folding his arms, “the next time you come to ‘borrow’ from the library, I’ll do you the honor of meeting you. And then, I’ll beat you properly. Show me then.”

“It’s a promise, okay?” swore Marisa in seriousness.

“Certainly,” he vowed with a hand over his heart, “I’ll promise you that.”

_Speaking of promises I don’t have much time left to meet with Youmu... Too late in the day to wander near where the kappa work, so that’s out..._

Marisa rested her cheek in her hand and poked Reimu’s, eliciting a squirming, closed mouth from the sleeper. “Wonder how mad she’ll be when she gets up,” she said, “you really gave her a crazy trip, huh.”

“We’ll have to meet again,” he answered, “I don’t want her thinking any less of me. That’s just dangerous, not to mention it being unkind on my part were I to leave it at this.”

“Good luck with that,” Marisa said. “You heading back now?” she asked, noticing him moving toward the entrance.

“Yes, an outsider like me shouldn’t be out at night; I’m really just asking for it if I am.”

“Alright. When I come to visit the library next time I’ll tell you about Reimu, ‘kay?”

“I made a promise, but don’t come to the library; I don’t want to keep it.”

“A real villain...” muttered the girl, sighing after.

“Stop stealing Master’s books,” he snapped. They glared at one another for a few seconds, and then both shook their heads as if the other was beyond reason.

“Good night, Marisa,” he wished.

“Night, ya punk,” she replied.

_And good night, Reimu... Sorry for the scummy win._

He walked out the shrine and closed the door behind him, wrapping his scarf properly around his neck and over his mouth once again. Through his breath he gazed at the dying purple sky above, not long for light. With his hands in his pockets, he wondered where to go next.

[] To Youmu.

[] Back home.

<>

[X] Back home.

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Anchor: J9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1396738)

* * *

“Mm. Guess I’ll go back.”

Saying this, he walked on, passed under the gate, and started down the stairs...

... only to immediately stop.

Someone with odd-colored hair was ascending and while, again, he knew that not only youkai were strange in this way here, it nevertheless gave him pause.

He silently watched them climb and wondered if he should act guard or simply walk by and assume the best of this visitor. Reimu’s shrine was disreputable for its non-human visitors, however, and so he imagined this was not a kinsman coming up (not at this hour). Knowing Reimu was still resting and Marisa was not ready to fight, Gen stood at the staircase top and waited for the person – a woman – to come close enough for conversation.

“Good evening,” she said, and she walked right past him.

He winced, unsure of what had just happened. The girl, dressed in a red tabard and decorated here and there with symbols of roses... wasn’t threatening. Thoroughly was she unthreatening. She had to have done something... When she greeted him and passed him by, he had simply stopped thinking about her for a moment.

Unnerved, he turned to see her again and forced himself to demand with emphasis, “Stop.”

She did so, and turned to face him with a quizzical expression. Her short, peach-colored hair bounced in her surprise, causing him to notice (and scrutinize with twisted lips and squinted eye) the cloth bun covers on her head.

“It didn’t work?” she asked rhetorical, and then looked sideways and muttered, “I suppose I still have much to work on.”

“You did something...?” he asked, as well not really seeking an answer. Looking to another side, he thought, and then decided to say, “This is a shrine for humans, not youkai. You should _get_.”

The woman shook her head and lifted her left hand, telling him, “Don’t I look human?” He noticed the shackle and chain around her wrist, and he frowned again. Before he could dwell on this, she mentioned, “Besides, couldn’t I ask what a magician is doing at the shrine? Well, I could ask, but a magician already nearly lives here along with the shrine maiden.”

He said nothing, not wanting to give her anything to latch on to in convincing him.

She eventually shrugged and said, “Yes, I mean Marisa,” with a gentle face.

Though he wasn’t assuaged of his suspicions, this knowledge of hers did ease him a bit. Still, he wanted to know, “What are you doing here at night? If you ask me the same, it’s since I’ve been here since the morning on task.”

“Just some farewells to the children, don’t you worry about it. I’ll be in and out in a moment and you won’t have to worry about me again.”

Gen showed his displeasure with this statement openly, dropping the lids of his eyes halfway and deepening his frown. He told her plainly, “I can’t accept that answer.”

“What is your problem?” she asked, growing annoyed. “People visit Reimu every day. Are you a guard or something?”

Again, he refrained from answering. Whether or not Reimu was friendly with youkai, he didn’t want a potential one knowing that she was currently in a weakened state. For various reasons, it would not sit well with him.

The woman detected this steadfastness, and rather than taking aggression, she seemed to think to herself and instead show unease.

Speaking to herself, she mumbled, “Huh? Could it be that Reimu isn’t well?”

His poker face broke for a moment.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked, upon seeing the crack.

“She—” he began, but held his tongue. He started thinking about stopping her with violence, but not knowing her capabilities or intent and not being at peak strength meant that would be a very risky move... and despite his desire to protect Reimu, his need for self-preservation couldn’t help but take precedence.

The pink and red girl looked him up and down and said, “Wait.” She then stepped toward him and tapped him on the forehead with two fingers. Thinking this bizarre he wanted to step away from her for the reason of “well, this must be dangerous”, but she once more felt utterly unthreatening. The woman spoke again in a level voice, and he felt no queer energies from it or her arm.

“My name is Ib—... Kasen. I am a simple ascetic and that is all. I was human too, once, and now I am simply another kind. I don’t recognize you, and you don’t smell very much like Gensokyo. You’re a human as well, aren’t you? Do you know about hermits?”

He answered smoothly (to his surprise, his heart was calming)—“I know about hermits a little, at least in this land’s context. Still, what would a hermit be doing outside of her hermitage?”

Kasen smiled, moved her hand, and patted his shoulder as she said, “Whatever she wants.”

She left him then, walking straight for the shrine.

The magician’s hackles fell down, and he was concerned she’d again done something to manipulate his perception. Unlike before, he was able to address her without forcing his body to do so, but the woman was eerie in a way he’d never before encountered. He really, completely, did not like that.

“Seriously,” he asked, “what’s your deal?”

Kasen did not stop walking, only casting these words over her shoulder: “I am good-natured, that is all.” And after saying this, she opened the shrine doors and stepped inside.

He was still concerned, standing below the torii and looking where she’d gone. He worried that if he left now, and something _did_ happen, he’d have regrets. But, eventually, after many seconds of staring, he sighed deeply and decided to believe that Reimu would not come to any true harm before her time. That, at least, was something he could have faith in. Itou Gen turned to walk down the stairs again, thinking to speak with his Master about hermits after delivering to her the ocular device she’d asked for.

~~

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Anchor: K9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2194237).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2698779)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t3sm6RcBpXU> ]  
[紅楼 ～ Eastern Dream – Sinen ni Nozomu ga Gotoshi - 如臨深遠 ～雨縒煙柳～(Demetori)]

Night fell in its entirety nearly without incident. Twice youkai met him on his way home – when he was nearing the lake and later when he was flying over it – but they were no matter; had he stayed out later that might not have held true.

He greeted the guard at the Mansion’s gate, flew over the wall, and walked inside the Devil’s home. Its familiar darkness fell over him immediately. Really, he felt like sleeping...

Suddenly, his vision went _entirely_ black. As if in karmic retribution, a hat had been shoved onto his head. Rather tired now, he could only make confused noises, wondering what was going on. He ultimately lifted the accessory on his head from over his eyes and saw his younger Mistress floating before him like a joking pixie. Arms behind her back and holding one wrist, she delivered to Gen a simper.

“Welcome home, Gen,” she said.

“I’m back, Mistress,” he answered, plucking the cap from his head by its brim. He looked at it in his hand, saying, “This is...” in a quiet voice.

It was a newsboy cap (Breton, far as he knew) made from dark velvet, similar to his coat. On its left side was a large, crescent moon shape—yellow and shining, just like that on his Master’s night-cap. The thin and embroidered belt on it that separated the brim was fit with two buttons of what seemed to be amethyst, and to that (and this object in general) he was rather amazed.

“This couldn’t be a gift, could it, Mistress Flandre?” he asked.

“It’s a gift,” she said, her smile now showing her fangs. “Cut your hair, it’ll look better that way.” With this, she turned from him and flew down one of the impenetrably dark mansion hallways, yelling, “Good night, Gen!”

Mistress Flandre had made him a hat.

He looked at the thing, still only holding it (almost loosely now), and tried to process this event.

Eventually, he gasped with realization. Mistress Flandre had made him a hat: hand-crafted, excellently put together, and with some of the charm of his Master’s sense. Settling from the shock, he understood it to be another gift he didn’t deserve.

Calmly, he placed it onto his head, fitting the thing and looking at the world from under the lip. He liked it. Now he owed this house a little more.

“What are you doing just standing around stupidly at the front door?”

“Master...!”

Patchouli Knowledge was approaching from the basement, coffee mug in hand. As was typical, she began their conversation with complaints, following with, “The snow wasn’t that bad, what are you doing back so late? Where’s the ocular? Hand it over.”

He fished the useless device he’d gotten from Alice out of an inner pocket and held it out before him. His Master walked over and plucked it from his grasp, inspecting it before a candelabra’s light and drinking from her mug throughout the examination.

Eventually satisfied, she held it a little higher and allowed the loupe to fall, and disappear, into her sleeve. Still drinking, she looked him up and down, squinting at parts of him. Finishing, and breathing out, she said, “The honorable little sister gave you the hat, did she? It looks good on you.”

“Th-Thanks,” he accepted the compliment, though nervously.

“Good work today.”

He thought that was out of order, but nodded nonetheless, asking her, “What are you planning on doing with the meteorite loupe anyway?”

“I want to use it to look into space, if possible.” With this said, she sipped from her mug again and explained, “Since it’s connected to space I might be able to scry into the stars with it.”

“Sounds probable. I’d like to see if you can do it, Master.”

“So would I,” she said. Her expression then soured and she turned from him, heading to another part of the mansion (from the direction, it was probably the dining area).

So, he asked, “Is something wrong?” while he followed.

“Sakuya is wrong,” she said. “At least one of you did something right, but she just let that little black-white get away with theft. I asked her why, and she told me she wouldn’t take the books back since Marisa fled and ‘breaking and entering’ is ‘what criminals do, not maids’.” Patchouli glowered and furrowed her brow, stating, “Honestly, that maid is a terrible cat.”

_Yep._

He nodded in agreement, saying, “That’s for sure.”

“So? Why were you late?” Master switched the line of conversation again with capricious timing, but used to this he answered without missing a beat:

“After helping Reimu out I also fought her.”

“Hoh?” His Master gave him a sideways glance of interest, and there was a fluttering in his chest. He proudly touched the bill of his new cap and recounted the events.

“I lost against her with the spell card rules,” he said, “but won against her _and_ Marisa without. Might I also add? I defeated Alice early in the day as well.”

“You’re boasting so much,” she commented.

“I have so much to boast about, come now!” he said, opening his arms wide to show off himself.

“Won without rules, hm...? What tricks did you pull now?”

“You have to assume I pulled tricks?” he asked, disappointedly dropping his hands.

“Answer it.”

“I guess it’s not likely someone like me could win against those giants... Yes, there were tricks. I was mixing water and light again.”

“That’s been working out for you.”

“Yes. Near the end I also dabbled with the moon, and throughout I got more practical experience using magical fuel.”

“Probably for the best with someone like you. Anyway, ‘good boy’; is that what you wanted to hear?”

He nodded and confirmed, “It’s what I wanted to hear.”

“Then there you have it. Now we’re going to the dining room; make me a snack and I may pet your head.”

He looked at his closed-eyes and soft-smiling Master and shook his head a little, telling her, “I don’t need my head pet for every good deed.”

“But you’ll want that, will you?”

Rubbing his neck and rotating his shoulders, he replied, “I’ve a lot of loyalty, Master, but please don’t think of me too much like a dog.”

“Shake,” she lightly commanded, holding up her palm.

He put his in hers and huffed, and walked with her hand-in hand-to the dining room.

~~

* * *

Anchor: L9

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1807771)

* * *

Later, after tending to the wound on his hand (which had already mostly closed) and making sure his clothes didn’t smell at all of the vomit he’d cleaned earlier, he went to be by himself.

Into the dead hours, he sat outside on one of Scarlet Devil Mansion’s towers, stomach full from dinner and head full from thoughts and encounters. In the past hour with his Master he’d learned about Taoism, about “gaps” (how Reimu had moved so quickly from place to place: she was creating strange spaces in reality to slip through), and about potions. They’d talk more tomorrow. She was tired.

At this, the end of what had clearly been a significant day, he now wondered what, of importance, could be gleaned from it, and more vitally what precisely he’d learned from it.

At the very least, he had completely realized he possessed arrogance, and that was dangerous. However, sitting there in Gensokyo and atop the home of one of its most powerful and terrifying residents with gentle night winds accompanying his solitude, he thought it was hard to not be arrogant. While he often felt he was given too much, there were things he _knew_ he deserved. There it was: arrogance.

“Hey.”

A voice came up behind him, and it was obvious: the shinigami, Komachi’s.

“Miss Komachi...” he said. “This really has been quite the day.” He rubbed the corners his eyes and top of his nose bridge and explained, “It’s been a while since I’ve had one like this, I’ve been studious and quiet for a while. Not much to say, you know?” He looked back at her, seeing her standing tall and imposing in the light of the moon. He asked, “How about you? Winter’s a time of death, right?”

“For plants, yeah...” she came to sit beside him, “but unless the place is _really_ backwater, winter’s not too different from... say, summer. Extreme highs, extreme lows; either kill people, and... Well, things aren’t that busy, I’ll say.”

She looked at him now, pushing out her lower lip. Chewing the inside of it a bit, she answered his first question, “I’m great, though, thanks for asking.”

“I met a hermit today,” he replied. She was not happy about that.

“Whaaat? Are you thinking about becoming some awful, gross, terrible hermit-magician? That’s... That’s just _too much_ of an affront.” She looked very disappointed in him.

“Rest assured, shinigami: my answer from last month, and the last month, and before that even all the way to when we met is still the same.”

“I gotta make sure it stays that way,” she said.

“You don’t,” he mentioned, “I’m an outsider. I don’t fall under your jurisdiction.”

“Call me whatever, Gen, but don’t forget to call me ‘usually right’,” saying this, she poked him in his nose, and he only blankly stared. “My assertion from the month before and all that jazz is _also_ still the same: you’re gonna become a magician eventually. Like, a real one, undying and everything. Like a lich, Gen.”

“That would be Taoist: shikaisen,” he clarified.

Komachi reeled back and looked upset, reminding him, “Again, hermit-mages: abominations. Don’t even _talk_ to me about something that heretical.”

“Right, I won’t, I won’t,” he relented, turning to look at the moon.

“Well you do look pretty mopey though,” she observed, resting her arms on her knees and her cheek on those arms to look at him. “What happened to Itou Gen today?” she asked.

Like before he opened his arms to show himself, announcing, “Itou Gen realized he’s a big-headed fool. Well, more clearly at least.”

Komachi shrugged dismissively. “I mean, I saw you accept a fight with a Konpaku when you were _actually_ drunk and disabled and, face it, impaired judgements are still yours.”

He raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “‘A Konpaku’?”

Komachi blinked, and then looked to the moon as he had, whispering, “Whoo—ps, she didn’t want me saying that did she?”

“Konpaku... Youmu, huh?” he clarified, returning his gaze, too, to the lunar sphere.

“She’s a gardener for the Saigyouji... I dunno what she was doing outside the Netherworld, but since she was trying to be cagey: probably bad.”

She was probably right.

Gen closed his eyes and pushed at them gently, saying, “Anyway... yeah. Basically, I’m too full of myself. I feel like I seriously might end up in a Muenzuka corpse pile at this rate.”

“You know, Gen, I’ve been watching you for a while...” Komachi began, looking at him again and coaxing his gaze, “... and, I’m good at reading people, right? You, Gen, should be proud of yourself.”

“Huh?” He was confused; only his masters ever told him to be proud.

“At this point, you’re probably getting youkai telling you not to be uppity or play at being powerful, but that’s just ‘cause it’s not natural. Even when you become someone as strong as the Shrine Maiden or her friend, youkai will insist that you have no right being that way.

“Listen up: you’re supposed to be just a scared little human, and you especially are just supposed to be an easy meal. You piss youkai off, and while that’s dangerous, that’s something you should be proud of. You’re pissing them off ‘cause they know you’ve actually gotten strong, and it’s annoying.”

Komachi clapped him on his shoulder and gave him a light shake, “‘Itou Gen’s a tough guy, and that’s just a pain’—that’s what they’re saying. You might want to stay cowardly in front of really strong, really cruel types, but a lack of confidence is just as likely to kill you sometimes, you know?” Komachi struck him on his back and stared up at the stars again, saying, “And I don’t want you to die before you’ve come under my wing. I’d hate that.”

Komachi had told him: she would know if he was going to die, and though she wouldn’t tell him when he got the feeling from her that at least now, it wouldn’t be soon.

While he felt always “separate” from the shinigami, he also always got the sense that she loved living things. When she said what she’d said just now, he knew that she meant it.

“Thanks for the advice,” he told her, “but I won’t become a magician.”

“And Lady Shiki won’t give lectures. Right.” She gave a laugh and ruffled his hair. Thinking, _My hair?_ he opened one eye and noticed she had his cap in her left hand. She put it on and said, “Nice hat. Does it look good on me?”

“Sure, Komachi,” he replied, smiling wryly. Each turned their eyes the sky again.

As they stargazed, he thought things over once more. Maybe it was alright to be proud, but to be arrogant as well? Maybe not...

Though irritating youkai with his moxie was pretty appealing.

The days would go by and he would find more power...

 _What the hell,_ he thought. _Why not enjoy all of it?_

========

_The days would go by..._

_And most frequently, he’d see_

[] Mistress Remilia

[] Mistress Flandre

[] Miss Sakuya

[] Meiling

[] Alice

[] Miss Youmu

[] Aomu, the kappa

[] Marisa

[] Miss Reimu

**_ Readers chose four of these. See the four chosen next chapter. _ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	10. Perfect Cherry Blossom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow in spring is an unacceptable thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. || Next Ch.→ _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.10**  
>  [A10].[B10].[C10].[D10].[E10].[F10].[G10].[H10]  
> [I10].[J10].[K10]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to [https://www.touhou-project.com/](https://www.touhou-project.com/10) Be wary of **spoilers.**

* * *

Anchor: A10

  
[[1]](https://gelbooru.com/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=3816738).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1568185).[[3]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2462131).[[4]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/657511).[[5]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1300643).[[6]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/919617).[[7]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2249352)

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<>

[X] Miss Youmu  
[X] Mistress Remilia  
[X] Aomu, the kappa  
[X] Mistress Flandre

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FGHMQ8fZNNE> ]  
[妖々夢 ～Snow or Cherry Petal [例大祭8 - 幻想郷Reflection (Silent Sphere)]

Now feeling more confident, he would visit his Mistress more often.

The first time he went to join her for morning tea she gave him a knowing look and said, “Gen, this Scarlet Devil would say that you’ve taken to Gensokyo just magnificently.”

At the time, the daring Remilia Scarlet was sat near a balcony in broad daylight: fearless of the Sun’s rays so close and threatening. She told him, gesturing to sit across from her, “I think that boldness is a quality all in this house should possess. A servant should be prideful, and a pet should refuse its chains.” She huffed and smirked and fluttered her wings. Gen sat down, happy to see her in good spirits.

He answered her, saying, “I am thankful, Mistress Remilia, for the evaluation. I take your words to heart, and you did tell me to be showy.”

“Did I?” she asked, honestly.

He took his teacup and brought it up, admitting, “Specifically, you told me to make a show of effort whenever I went out.”

“Then I haven’t said to be showy, right?”

“I learn best through imitation, my Mistress,” he said, and displayed for her an intrepid, refreshing look.

The Scarlet Devil chuckled through her nose and remarked, “Goodness. You are adorable, you know that?”

“Many in the mansion seem to agree,” he answered, drinking.

Although he would sometimes find her and chat before, he had neglected visiting his Mistress since his entering Patchouli’s tutelage. Before, he had not felt adequate. When first meeting Remilia Scarlet, the immediate impression he had of her was that, despite looking like a young girl, she was a woman above, and it was not an impression he had gotten from any other soul in Gensokyo: not his Master, not Yuuka, not Reimu; no one else. His Mistress was, in a word, noble, and her resolute majesty humbled him. There were many things he felt he didn’t deserve in this land of fantasy, and his Mistress’s favor, let alone her attention, had been something he considered particularly beyond his place. He still felt he hadn’t earned her kindness, but he thought he would try, and Remilia seemed to know and find that cute in him.

And so February went by until it came to be March.

One day, on the outskirts of the Mountain, in a place known this time of year for unnerving dried stalks of once-beautiful flowers standing everywhere, he convened with the little gardener. The two of them saw winter’s manifestation before their eyes, crystalized in flakes of snow, glowing and blue enough to be distinct amidst all the white. When either reached out to touch this gathered essence of the season, it tied to them, flying around them whimsically. They could put and push “winter” however they wished, and when they did, burnt autumn color returned to a few of the resting sunflowers surrounding them, while piles of snow and the steady winds grew colder with its application.

“It works!” shouted Youmu enthusiastically. To be exact, it now _consistently_ worked. It also wasn’t exactly magic... but rather a peculiar extension of belief. If one thought enough of the idea of a season, they could see it formed in _pieces_ of a season. And, so long as one person made a “wish” for this essence, anyone could collect it. Winter was manifested as blue snowflakes; according to what he’d researched, spring manifested as pink cherry blossoms, summer as green leaves, and autumn as red ones instead. It was miraculous, strange, and to Gen, subtly terrifying.

Sitting above her on a boulder cleared of snow, he watched Youmu with his brow furrowed. After some time finding her elation cute, his eyes turned to the winter sapphire orbiting him now, and he returned it to the world, uncomfortable with what he’d done.

Youmu sought to gather spring.

To what end, he didn’t know, but he’d given her the means to do it, even if it was as simple as passing on the knowledge of something of which anyone in Gensokyo was capable.

However, it was obviously unnatural to steal a season. He had no doubt that Youmu’s movements in the coming months, given how straightforward and unyielding she was, would be outright disastrous. Spring was meant to come, and if it was taken, the season before it (winter) would remain instead. He knew this, but couldn’t bring himself to even suggest that she stop. Partly because he knew she would never listen, but he had to admit that mostly it was since he was worried for himself. Making a plaything of Scarlet Devil Mansion in jest as a present to his benefactor was one thing; being complicit with a full-blown Incident that would throw Gensokyo into an overlong if not endless cold season, and he was an outsider? There was no joke in saying this: Reimu _would_ kill him. He imagined playing straight would be the best thing he could do, not trifling in any plans lest Youmu spitefully confess his involvement.

So he hid his thoughts from the girl, saying, “Indeed, it looks like your mistress won’t be disappointed.”

And she answered, “Yes,” with a fresh and spirited nod, “I must admit: I, too, can’t wait to see the Saigyou Ayakashi in full bloom.”

“Saig... Wait, what?” he muttered. He spoke under his breath, but Youmu heard his worry, and realized she had made a slip of the tongue.

“Ah, no!” she said, and she was flustered, waving her hands in denial, “Never mind that! Never mind!”

Gen minded it, looking askance at an orange sunflower drying as it was slowly reclaimed by the current season (current, at least, until near March’s end), losing its color. _‘Ayakashi’ as in... youkai!?_ he wondered, his eyebrow raising. _And, “in bloom”... a youkai tree? Haven’t I heard of that before?_

Youmu was at his ankles, trying desperately to derail his train of thought. He looked down at her, fingers laced under his nose and a wince in his eyes. _Yuuka spoke of them... And the books on Muenzuka..._

_Saigyou Ayakashi... A youkai tree that needs the entirety of spring to bloom? That’s..._

He broke out into a cold sweat. The consequences of his assistance may have been even worse than he had anticipated.

And it came to be April.

While it was a month somewhat known for blurring the line in the transition of seasons, he noticed as weeks passed that rain wasn’t falling, and so the snow was never melted away. For now, everyone discussing it believed the weather to just to be vaguely unusual, but he knew the truth of it. He hadn’t seen Youmu since March had ended and she had vowed to grant her master’s wishes.

He had also not researched the Saigyou Ayakashi.

On a day during snowfall, he finally decided to remedy this ignorance of his that had been born of apprehension. In the Library, he stood in an aisle holding a record of Gensokyo’s history in his hands, or at least a record of as much as was known. He studied the Saigyou Ayakashi (a youkai cherry tree) and the garden of Hakugyokurou where it stood—a mansion tied to the Saigyouji estate since ancient times. They were all sad names speaking of death and the world beyond. His discoveries did not bode well.

While he read, the younger Scarlet wandered to him.

“Lady Flandre,” he noted, smoothly masking the dread which revelation had brought him and speaking as if everything was usual, “did you need something from myself or the Library?”

“Eh, no,” she said plainly. The vampire perused the spines of books as she stepped in his direction. She was wearing a disinterested expression as she came: one that told him she was only spending time.

He returned to the history.

“So—” came her sudden whisper, making him shiver, “—records of the Netherworld, huh?” She had snuck fast to his side, and was now hovering there with her hand on his shoulder and her mouth close to his ear. He flinched and moved away from her, whereupon she let him go and looked at him happily—happily, but also with a touch of wickedness.

He tugged down his hat to cut off her gaze, and answered with, “Just curiosity, Mistress Flandre.” In response, she played with the back of his hair, teasing it with her palm facing upward. It was now only halfway down his neck after she’d asked for it cut, and he found she liked to do this sometimes since then. He blushed, finding the act a test for his heart in two ways: charming and frightening (after all, again, he hadn’t noticed her getting to his back and side). He didn’t move from her, allowing the ancient child to explore his tresses at her leisure, and grow increasingly provocative in her probing.

“I’ve been wondering: ‘what’s the second human up to lately?’” she mentioned, speaking softly, with touch nearing the back of his ear.

He squinted, looking aside as if to look at her. There he wagered, “I suppose I can’t just tell you ‘nothing’, Mistress?”

She replied, “I don’t usually pay attention to what’s going on, but whenever I’ve spotted you around over the last year or whatever you have a look like, ‘ragh, ragh, I’m mad! I’m mad, you know!?’”

Trying to ignore her fingers, he closed the book in his left hand and posed pensively, his right hand rested over his nose while he mumbled, “Oh, that’s a problem.”

Flandre spoke flatly, saying, “It’s annoying,” before dragging her hand down to his shoulder, and using it to pivot herself before him. He looked into her eyes, attempting to remain calm. She looked at him critically, and he spoke up.

“By the way,” he said, “it’s only been a few months.”

Flandre covered her face with both hands and bowed her head, fed up.

“At least, I’m pretty sure it has,” he continued, “I could’ve been scowling before, I guess—”

“Shut up,” she spoke through a parting in her palms, and peeked at him from between her fingers, her eyes glowing red. “Tell me what you’ve been getting up to, already.”

“Hmmm...” He wasn’t sure if he should. Then again, the younger Mistress might have killed him for his refusal. “I would appreciate if you kept it to yourself but, I’ve been causing trouble by helping somebody out, and I’m afraid it’s gotten out of hand.”

“Too vague!” she moaned, tugging at her hair and wiggling above the ground. “Just say what’s what!”

“Lady Flandre, I have to admit that’s irritating to hear from someone who speaks of their power of destruction as the moving and crushing of things’ ‘eyes’.”

She let go of her head and stared at him blankly to say, “Do you want me to take your ‘eye’, and then you’ll understand it better?”

“No thank you.”

Flandre stepped to the floor and put her hands on her hips, keeping only a toe to the ground and watching her skirt move lightly at the hem from her motions, but otherwise remain still in the idle air of the archive. She said, “Then, talk,” and he stared at the pale skin of her legs a little too long before answering.

“Alright,” he replied with a shake of his head, pulling his gaze from her smooth and stimulating legs back to her face that he found beguiling, “I’ve helped a gardener from the Netherworld steal spring so that she may bring to life a youkai tree that compels people to sleep beneath it, at which point it kills them by draining their lives into its roots.”

Flandre was now holding her own contemplative pose, grasping her elbow and keeping her free hand thoughtfully under her chin. She said, “Ohh, hohh, is that right?” with very little concern in her voice.

“What’s more,” he said, ignoring her dismissiveness, “as that person is stealing spring, winter can’t be replaced; hence the recent weather, and lack of precipitation.”

“Woww~,” the young Mistress remarked, “you’ve really screwed up.”

“I intend to do something about it,” he promised, and though he loved to look at her, he returned to his book.

“O—” she paused, “kayy, I think I’ll keep your secret safe with me, Gen.” She revealed this while touching over her chest with her fingertips and bowing slightly, wearing a gentle and polite face. He looked at her – at her closed eyes and lifted brow, indicating satisfaction – and in that he was pleasantly surprised.

“Thank you... Mistress Flandre. Honestly, I mean that.” And he confessed, “I’ve truthfully been very scared lately.”

“I won’t tell a soul,” she assured him, opening her eyes just a little and showing him a smirk, “because you cut your hair.”

So it came to be May, and winter hadn’t left.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNCT4AZ0mUI> ]  
[Sakura, Sakura ~ Japanize Dream/さくらさくら - Sinen ni Nozomu ga Gotoshi - 如臨深遠 ～雨縒煙柳～ (Demetori)]

The Girl of Knowledge and Shade sat in one of the rare windowed-rooms of Scarlet Devil Mansion, warming herself with tea and looking at the snowfall outside with some concern.

With the seasons out of order, the weeks had become so as well, and naturally the days they were made of too. If it kept up, her mastery over the Eastern elements would be very difficult to maintain. Spirits, youkai, plants, animals, and humans alike would all change from this, also, and not at all for the better. She drank more from her cup, and turned to a book she was reading.

“This has really become too much of a bother,” she murmured.

And the Elder Magician earnestly felt that way. The Maid would have to take care of it, if the Shrine Maiden didn’t first.

Outside in the too-frozen lands, things that were to be revived were now slowly dying, too cold and asleep too long. A young magician acted as the older one, in her forest home watching the weather and remarking on it.

“It's ordinary, but I don't hate spring.”

Although magic always kept her and her house warm, she had become anxious. It was the time for flower-viewings, yet blizzards had become the norm this year. “With a storm like this, I can’t be visitin’ the shrine,” she bemoaned, thinking, _This sucks._

And at the Shrine, its maiden bemoaned the cold. For a full week the weather hadn’t broken, and at in this late month she’d grown utterly tired of it. Talking to herself while rubbing her upper arms for heat she mumbled, “The cherry blossoms should have bloomed by now. Why is there so much snow this year?”

She whined, shook her head, and set off, knowing this to be an Incident.

And from some cave blocked by a great stone, smoke began to rise.

An apprentice, outfitted for winter weather (this meant now he had boots), stood outside Scarlet Devil Mansion’s gate, gazing out at the frozen and white Gensokyo he was unfortunately now becoming a little used to. Still he’d never seen a winter last past March, and to think he’d see all this snow in May was absurd. He lifted his hand and caught a dancing cherry blossom petal before it could be taken by the wind. It shined between his fingertips dully.

“Like I thought...” he said, looking into the snowstorm around the lake ahead. Here and there he could see cherry blossoms scattering. Something unnatural had taken spring away, and he knew exactly what it was.

“Are you going to follow after Miss Sakuya, Sir Gen?” the guard asked behind him, also completely covered in winter-repelling gear.

He looked back at her and answered, “Perhaps. I’ve got a few options, and Master is fine with me going out.”

“Be safe if you do,” she wished. He thought: it was funny having a man-eater tell him such a thing.

He let the flower petal go and, as he’d expected, it began to follow around him in a swirl. Without a doubt, this Incident had been caused by Konpaku Youmu, and it was his tutelage that had helped it manifest. Surely, he had to give some aid to those who would be going to resolve it by now.

He didn’t know where or how to find her. Looking into the sky, he decided...

[] to follow after the other human of the Mansion.

[] to consult with Wakasagihime about the Incident.

[] to ask Aomu about the Incident.

[] to make his own way to Youmu.

<>

[X] to ask Aomu about the Incident, first. Then he’d determine how to act.

~~

* * *

Anchor: B10

  
[[1]](https://twitter.com/hrnrx/status/930586961772871680)

* * *

“I know something about you that Patchouli doesn’t,” his Mistress had said, chuckling with her knowledge at the time.

And at the time, Gen sweat at those words and held his teacup to his lips too long, worrying iin silence with a wincing face. The Devil then smiled and said, “Oh,” next touching her tongue to fang and saying, “ _several_ somethings, are there?”

Unable to drink, he brought his cup back down and wore a newly miserable expression.

“Our Gen is keeping secrets,” she continued, dragging her finger around the rim of her own cup while looking to the sun-filled sky askance, “well, I only know one of them.”

“May I ask which, Mistress?” he ventured, attempting to recompose himself.

“You may,” she allowed, nose in the air and eyes closed.

He looked across the table, placing his hands on it with one over the other in a vague showing of politeness. He continued to wait, for eight seconds, which was a short but _thoroughly_ uncomfortable amount of time. Remilia let one eye slightly open to look upon him, and she grimaced. Upon seeing this, he didn’t wait for her to scold him and instead hurriedly asked, “Which of my secrets do you know, Mistress Remilia?”

Instantly, her eye was lid and her pride returned. She folded her arms and began to reveal her information, “Yes, you see, I know that you have been consorting with some kappa.”

Gen had braced for the impact of the revelation, but instead of like a truck, this hit like a feather. He opened his mouth and out of it came, “Ah, that...” shortly followed with, “is something Master Patchouli knows already.”

Remilia kept her arms folded and her posture proud, but her face began to twitch with some confusion. Eventually enough cracks in her composure broke her mask of conceit, and she met Gen’s eyes with hers glaring. “Ehm, what?” she asked. “Come again?”

“Master already knows,” he repeated. “Her name is Kawaiwaya Aomu, and we met last year. The day we did, I told Master about it.”

He then jumped in his chair, startled that Remilia had slammed her hands to the table and suddenly stood, her wings unfolding to their full and intimidating three meter span. She cried, “What!?” in disbelief, and he sank into his seat. Despite her being of an ordinarily small stature, sat there before her he felt unequivocally dwarfed.

He put his eyes askance, ground his molars together, and managed to calm himself enough to answer her, saying, “Yes, though I’m wondering how you found this out, Mistress.”

Remilia was glowering; he could feel it although he would not meet her eyes. Soon, however, he smelled a strange kind of burning and looked toward the balcony to see his Mistress’s wingtip smoking on fire in the sunlight, prompting him to hurriedly stand.

Remilia, however, acted as if this was harmless; she simply continued looking at him, irritated. Eventually she took her hands from the table and brought them to her hips, making her wings small again and looking at the left article: the one which had been bathed in light. She flapped both her wings once, producing a minor gust over the balcony in that beat’s power. The act killed the flame, but not before a smoldering piece of herself was cast forward. The vampire caught this snapping and hot, leathery bone in her hand before it could fly across the table to her servant, and there looked on it with indifference. It quickly faded to ash in her palm, and she lifted the newly formed black pile toward the outdoors to let nature’s winds take it fully there. By the time he looked again, Gen saw that her damaged wing had already restored itself completely.

“Haaa...” his Mistress sighed. With her fingertips touching her face, she admitted: “I embarrassed myself.”

 _Twice_ , he thought, he was still shaken by the image of her angered posture.

“Anyway, I’d noticed your heading to Youkai Mountain more and more; heedless I might add,” spoke Remilia, “and once, then twice, I decided to tail you.”

 _You had!?_ he commented to himself. Although his Mistress’s presence was often incredibly overwhelming and nearly impossible to ignore, he’d never noticed her at all.

The Scarlet Devil pulled her chair back in and sat again while she explained her findings, “Although your dealings are... allegedly known to Patche, I saw that you and this kappa wanted to keep quiet and clandestine. Why is it that you never go to where the rest of the kappa nest?”

“That...”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SweM5qKuAQI> ]  
[白銀が舞い踊る - Carnival! (Floating Cloud)]

... was still a concern, in present day.

Gen now flew outside Youkai Mountain, looking it over and wondering from where he should enter. Having wasted some time disposing of hostile fairies on his way here, and with time being surely limited, he quickly turned his eyes toward where he knew a certain gorge between the Mountain and Forest lay. He had until now avoided the so-called Genbu Ravine on Aomu’s advice; to the kappa’s credit, her first thoughts upon learning of his humanity and outsider status were dedicated to fretting over his safety. If she’d felt betrayed, she’d never told it.

His explanation to his Mistress over their secrecy was an obvious one on his part: it was dangerous for him to travel to the kappas’ lair. As for Aomu...

“Should be around here, right...?” he asked the thrashing air, gazing beyond a thinning canopy. Before he moved forward, Gen looked back to Misty Lake and the storm brewing over it. The winds had lowered since a bit ago, and he figured the weather would break soon. He returned his scrutiny to the trees and looked specifically at their trunks. Aomu had told him, “If you really want to find me, and we haven’t set up a meeting like it’s a total emergency or something, and it’s very serious, right? Look for the tree marked with a cave on the trunk beside the Genbu Ravine, on the side of it closer to the Forest. You can go there—that’s around where I live.” Now finding an arc carving in one of the tree’s trunks, and only one, he made to push through the woods, recalling his engineer friend had also requested, “But, don’t do that please. Just don’t.”

He did that, and came across the cave-dotted and hexagon-jointed Genbu Ravine, flying above it. Snow covered it in a way more fantastic than he’d ever prior seen in Gensokyo, and as usual he was compelled to float and admire. Towers, steps, and outcroppings of columnar basalt shaped this canyon, along with a healthy waterfall and river. The waterfall had frozen, though, and he saw that a few blue-clothed and backpacked dwarves were crowding it and discussing before a figure that seemed to have been frozen within it. He thanked whatever that distraction was for allowing him the moment to appreciate the scene, and carefully descended while hiding best he could in this rather open space (mainly, staying to the ravine’s walls). The snow died down.

“Phew,” he sighed, making a soft landing on a large stone, and now touching the ground with a gloved hand. It was slippery... he was thankful to be wearing boots, now. Ice was everywhere here.

 _Now,_ he thought, _how to get Aomu’s attention...? Assuming she’s even here._

While pondering, he heard a harsh whisper of “ _Gen!?_ ” and looked to his left to see a familiar cap atop a more familiar dark head of hair. Aomu was poking up from the river and looking at him disbelieving. He raised his hand in greeting and smiled (though she couldn’t see that behind his scarf), offering a “Yo”.

The girl leapt up to shore, casting cold water everywhere, and she rushed for him. He recoiled and stood, and she pushed her wet hands into his zipper, eliciting from him a “Hey!” which was ignored. She hastily shoved him to a wall of gray and, when he was flat(-ish) against it, she tapped that wall with her fingers quickly and specifically. Then, she slammed her fist down on a remembered part of it. The whole thing gave way then, and he fell backward into what seemed to be a secret passage, Aomu landing atop him with a pained expression.

His reaction of “Off me, dwarf!” was quick, and he grabbed her at her shoulders only to find her clinging, letting the river’s water seep into his clothes.

As the rock doors of the cave closed, she sighed sweetly, commenting, “Ahh, warm~... This is nice.”

He growled, and managed to detach the youkai and put her to the floor at his right. He then sat up annoyed, and she spat a stream of water into his face.

“Damn it!” he shouted, picking up a dry part of his scarf and quickly wiping his eyes and nose. He heard her complaints.

“What are you _doing_ here!? Didn’t I tell you!? It’s dangerous! _Dan-_ gerous! And think about my reputation, idiot! I told you that, too! They’ll say I’m pathetic, keeping a human pet like a cat! And it’s in the middle of an Incident, too—What are you _thinking!?_ Agh, the fairies, the mountain youkai, the others: everyone’s got their hackles up! Aaagh, what a mess!”

He kept his scarf at his mouth, watching the little kappa frantically wave throughout her list of anxieties and regularly grab at her hat in frustration. When she pulled a cucumber out her pocket, bit into it, and began worriedly chewing, he spoke up.

“Speaking of the Incident,” he said, “is there anything you know about it? Anything in particular that you can tell me?”

“ _Whuff?_ ” she asked with her mouth full of green. “Reary, Gen? Why wouf I know anyfing? The kappa didn’ shtart thish.”

“You’re the closest tie I have to the Mountain,” he explained, “so I thought you might know about any suspicious youkai who could’ve started this.”

Aomu continued to munch her stress away, sitting on her knees and looking at the crazy human whom she had befriended as if he were, as a matter of fact, crazy. She swallowed another piece of her race’s favorite vegetable and answered, “We all suspected this one yuki-onna who was really excited, but the Shrine Maiden kicked her butt a little while ago and winter’s still here.”

“Huh...” he muttered, taking his scarf from his lips and unwrapping it as well. He opened his coat and took a silvery vial out from the lining, opening it and dripping a little out to the earth. With a few words, he called the concoction to spark, and created a little ball of floating flame. He put this between himself and Aomu, and the two of them dried, Aomu looking like a small chipmunk as she neared it and sat satisfied.

After his and her shivering had largely subsided, he asked her, “Have the kappa looked into this Incident beyond that? Or are you all leaving it to Miss Reimu?”

Aomu gulped and seemed to focus on taking bits of cucumber from her teeth with her tongue. Then, she answered: “We figured out that it’s not like spring isn’t here, it’s that most of spring is being actively taken away.”

“Really? ... Wait, what?”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rhxH5E3bwr4> ]  
[NITORI IN JAZZ - 東方JAZZ2008 (SOUND HOLIC)]

The kappa stood up and started to walk into the cave, saying, “It’s pretty much... mysticism... hooey... a natural phenomenon, not really scientific.” Gen watched her pull a remote from one of her pockets and start pushing down buttons on it, which in turn turned on bulbs around them of odd and variously twisting shapes. These lightbulbs illuminated mysterious, inelegant contraptions here and there in the cave—most of which he gave only brief attention, having seen so many of Aomu’s inventions before this already. Eventually, Aomu also turned on what seemed to be a shimmering monitor. Walking up to it, she tapped its screen with a knuckle, and ripples were sent out across it. She finally continued, saying, “Kako made this thing, and we’ve all been using it. It’s a map of Gensokyo, and it works so long as the weather isn’t super dry.”

Gen followed after her, taking his fire with him and holding it a little from his stomach, still hoping he could dry himself. He watched Aomu fiddle with two knobs below the monitor, and stare intently into the machine’s black and glittering surface, and at the image of her Gen raised his eyebrow. After all, it seemed she now had a cattail hanging out her mouth... And when exactly had she gotten _that_?

“Hm, just about... like this... See,” began the youkai, now finished with her adjustments. She glanced up at him and twizzled the stalk in her mouth before explaining, “We managed to trace ‘spring’, or the pieces of it, as cherry blossoms, pollens, and... hrmmrrm... ‘ _freshness_ ’, I guess.”

He looked into the screen. On its black surface was what looked to be weather patterns, marked white and, he thought, likely signifying snow. However there were pink dots throughout as well, and a blue bunch at the center. He didn’t know what science was behind this machine of theirs, but the kappa seemed to have somehow tracked down the missing season.

“Where are ‘we’ on this?” he asked, pointing and looking Aomu’s way. In response, Aomu _click_ ed something on the inner strap of her backpack and a comical, _Inspector Gadget_ -esque robotic arm came out of her “shell”, complete with a cartoonish gloved white hand. She used it to point at the center of the screen and said, “The center of course!” The blue...

He supposed she couldn’t reach.

Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen her fly...

He looked over the map again. Thinking, he came up with one more question—one that was sincere, not veiled by truth’s omission in a gambit for trust: “I imagine you all have tried to notice _where_ these petals and pollen and freshness are being taken? You’ve had it since before the Incident, haven’t you? I can’t tell any patterns from just looking at it now.”

“Uh, y-yes and no—put, put out the fire, Gen!” the kappa stammered, and he blinked at her, not putting out the fire. She glared, pushing the cattail in her mouth up before snapping her fingers and causing water to spout from a wall and douse his magic. “Not so close to the machines!” she demanded, “I don’t want people asking what I was doing playing with fire instead of water.”

“Sorry, Little Aomu, but you did soa—tch, hey.” He was interrupted by her spreading her arms and hugging him around his waist. She sighed again, pleased with his temperature. Gen wore a frown, looking off to his side while she squeezed him. She was still damp.

“Haaa...” the youkai breathed, nuzzling him. “Really, humans are always so warm.”

“Keep your hands from my rear,” he ordered.

“Jeez, Gen, I wouldn’t!” she snapped, but did not move her hands. She spoke beside his stomach, and sometimes into it when trying to heat her nose: “Anyway we figured out that spring is being taken out of Gensokyo, we just don’t know where. There are a lot of potential wheres.”

He leaned forward and folded his hands atop the kappa’s head, making her squeak but not remove herself.

 _“Where” would be the Netherworld... But how do I get there? That’s what I was hoping to find out..._ He stared into the monitor, seeing the spring it marked disappear at the screen’s edges. _I’ve tried reaching the Netherworld from the Road of Liminality before, but I only ever can find the Sanzu River._

“Aomu,” he addressed her, “could this invention or something like it become more accurate outside the canyon?”

“Yeah,” she answered into his stomach, making him flinch to the ticklish sensation, “We’ve got a smaller version—or it’s more like, if we went _out_ to some of the suspected _areas_ we _could_ find the portal or gate that would lead us to the world of the culprit, but, well, you know, heh heh...”

He looked down at her and asked, “What? I don’t know what.”

“It’s scary, of course,” she said, hugging him tighter before picking up her head to look at him in return,(causing his arms to fall behind her neck). “Just leave it to the Shrine Maiden, Gen. What do y’even care? You’re no Incident resolver.”

“Well...” he trailed off, looking into her sapphire eyes while considering if honesty would work out here.

In the past few months in particular, Aomu had proven to him repeatedly that she could be trusted, even though – as with the initial wariness which had kept him from amicability with the mermaid Wakasagihime – Aomu being _a kappa_ was not something he could easily overcome. But he did, as a matter of fact, trust her. He enjoyed her company and, thinking about it, he would easily name her a friend. However, every time he went to meet her he was reminded of an important fact that felt he always had to keep in mind: Kawaiwaya Aomu was a bit of an outcast.

So before he could be honest, he had to remember: their relationship was something that _each_ of them was treating with cautious hands, and with no small amount of consideration. The closer that he got to her and her experiments, the nearer that he was to exposure. As for her, the more that she knew about him, the likelier it was that she be, with him, somewhat apprehensive (and for good reason). After all the more that she knew, the more secrets she would have to keep. In essence: the more their comradery grew, the more risk they invited.

That was to say: without care and preparation, discovery of their dealings could mean a gruesome and unhappy end, if the wrong parties came to know.

He decided...

Rather than burden or unburden her by his own decision, he would tease, and ask her.

“I do have a reason,” he offered. And then, he bid, “Do you want to know?”

“Whoa,” said the kappa with a serious look, “you look serious all of a sudden. Ummm... I’m not really sure?”

“Well, think about it,” he said, and he took her arms from around him before walking toward the entrance alone. Without her help, he’d have to figure something else out. With it...

“Sure, Gen,” he turned halfway and looked back at her as she spoke, nervously grabbing the tips of her thumbs, “tell me. It’s an emergency, right? I told you you could only come here if that was why, and up until now you haven’t let any other kappa know about our work and stuff.” She frowned, then folded her arms and looked him in the eye to say, “So, shoot.”

“Alright. I myself have something to do with this Incident,” he said, not stopping when she raised her arms in shock, “I gave the culprit the means to steal spring, and didn’t stop her although I knew that was her plan.”

“Gen, you idiot...!” she said in disbelief. “Why would you... _do_ that!?”

He replied, “I gave her my word. When it began, I wasn’t sure what she was planning, either.”

“Agh, Gen...” the water dwarf pressed down on her closed eyes, head ascent while she spoke, “how easily do you swear with people? How is it a human this naive is still breathing in Gensokyo...?”

“Well, I’m pretty badass,” he admitted. “I can take the risks.”

“Ugh,” she groaned, dropping her hands and looking at him with all annoyance. She then mumbled, looking at a wall beside her: “Sweet River, why’d I ask...?”

“I do apologize, Little Aomu, however now you are complicit.” He pointed at her from under his arm and said, “You’d better help me.”

“Gaaa—n,” she voiced, the cattail dropping out of her mouth. He let one sputter of laughter loose at her silly expression, but didn’t allow himself any more than that. He honestly did not enjoy roping her in like this, or at all, but she _had_ asked to be.

“Alright, kappa,” he said, turning fully and putting his hands on his hips, “let’s get out of here and help resolve this Incident. Even if Reimu stops whatever’s going on, I’m worried about whether or not she can bring Spring back on her own.”

“Alright, Gen,” Aomu answered, also putting her hands on her hips and sighing before she continued, “but you’ve got a problem, first. You have to get us out of Genbu Ravine without you dying.”

“Hm, that _is_ a problem.”

He crossed his arms and thought.

“Keep in mind, Gen:” Aomu said calmly, “I can’t really vouch for you. Well, I can, but it won’t matter; if someone wants your blood and shirikodama, I can try to stop them but it won’t do you much good. Every kappa in Gensokyo is here right now. I also don’t wanna look like a traitor forever after you’re dead, y’know...”

“Yeah, I know...”

Ideally, he had intended to make his presence known to the other kappa under significantly better conditions. Today, Aomu was absolutely right: they were surely all agitated, and they might really enjoy the warmth of his blood on this cold “Spring” day...

He grimaced, and considered his options.

[] Be a hero.

[] Be a villain.

[] Be a coward.

<>

[X] Be a coward.

~~

* * *

Anchor: C10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1200091)

* * *

“Hey, Gen?”

“What is it, Miss Youmu?”

On one afternoon after having rapidly completed his tasks for the day, he met with the Netherworld gardener at the sleeping Garden of the Sun once again, and when he went to fetch his notes from within a sack he’d been carrying she addressed him.

“I’m just wondering...” she began whilst cutely, nervously, twiddling her fingers, “how well do you manage to keep it secret you’re helping me?” she asked.

And he grunted, “Hm,” in response before saying, “perhaps well?” It had been before Flandre sniffed him out, of course. “Why? Are you worried I’ll accidentally betray you?”

She shook her head, her pretty hair moving silly with the motion, and she clarified, “No, I was seeking more advice.”

Having found his notes among bottles and jars, he turned and shrugged saying, “Alright then. What?”

“Well, you see, when I eventually go to take spring,” she casually revealed, “I must do it sneakily. I’ve been worried about whether or not I can do that, basically...”

 _She admitted it..._ he noted with a miserable face, having gathered her intentions by this point, but having not been yet given a full confirmation. Figuring he had already gone this far with aiding in something untoward, he decided to help her with this as well.

“I do suppose you’re more of a samurai than a ninja,” he said after a while.

Youmu put her hands together, holding two fingers and raising another two in a generic and familiar pose as she said, “Nin nin.” He blushed.

“Like this, Gen,” she said with a smirk.

“Amazing, Youmu. You’ve gone and disappeared!” he praised in a faked voice, applauding steadily.

Now Youmu blushed, lowering her hands and saying, “Sh-Shut up...”

“Whoa!! Miss Youmu! Where were you!?” he exclaimed, slapping his forehead with an open palm. Her blush deepened and her mouth wobbled. _A pale face can really get red_ , he thought at the time. He then stood up straight and planted his hands on his hips. “Alright, Miss Youmu,” he’d said. “I can certainly teach you some of the art of stealth.”

“R-Really!?” The phantom girl bounced back, fists raised in excitement.

“Not that I’d call myself stealthy,” he’d admitted, staring off toward the forest, “but I could teach you some basics; I’ve had to hide before and succeeded.” It was a bit essential... ever since he’d been brought into Gensokyo.

He expected Youmu wouldn’t retain much of what he taught, and at the time had been worried she would fail immediately and sell his involvement. To his shock, however, no one seemed to know that the long winter was due to the actions of a Netherworld (half-)Phantom, all the way to this current moment and hour.

Reminiscing on his lessons with Youmu, and knowing meeting with all the kappa here in their environment would be tantamount to suicide, Gen decided he simply... wouldn’t.

He addressed Aomu.

“Aomu, I’ve decided,” he told her.

“On whuff?” she answered, and he lifted his head to see her eating another cucumber. Was she so stressed? He squinted; she frowned (still chewing).

After keeping eye to eye for a moment, Gen sighed, and then stated, “I need your help. First, you have something like that map that can be held in one’s hand, don’t you?”

She gulped and said, “Yeah. When we go looking for where spring’s being taken we’ll use that. The range is much lower, but everything recorded and monitored is more accurate.”

“Am I right, here? It can identify the positions of your brother and sister kappa, no?”

“Yeah!” Aomu exclaimed, lifting her hands in excitement. She explained, “Kako developed it for kappa rescue!”

He’d figured. That was surely what the blue dots he’d noticed were for.

“Alright. How many handheld maps do you have?” he asked.

“Just one,” she said. “One per kappa.”

“Then trust me and give me that. Tell me how it works, too. I’ve decided: I’m going to escape the ravine without being noticed.”

Aomu looked at him incredulously, and he added:

“Of course, you’ll help me do that.”

* * *

Anchor: D10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/876919)

* * *

A young boy played at escape and infiltration, and on the way would learn that turtles cannot fly.

He had expected as much: they did not have wings, and primarily functioned in the water.

Of course, wings were not needed to fly in Gensokyo, but having them always made the distinction of non-humans very obvious.

His Mistress had wings, and at the time the pain at one of their tips had been unbearable.

She thought of this now while sitting in the empty library, reading an old and Grecian work under a blanket cover and sighing often. It had honestly, genuinely, hurt so much. She still hoped now that the boy hadn’t noticed.

Itou Gen was somebody she liked. Remilia Scarlet could not say that about many people with the whole of her fragile and corpse heart. She liked many things, certainly, and even people were often wont to amuse her, but she could count those she truly _liked_ on one hand. The whole hand, yes, but still only one of them. He had been lying to her and to his Master, and now he was off to try to return spring. Sakuya, too, was off to do the same without any order. Patchouli was upstairs, and she was in the library. Everything was out of order, and it delighted her.

The eldest Scarlet was a vampire, but more importantly she was a patrician and a patron. She didn’t ever want to say it, but it seemed like all in her house (save for that sister...) implicitly understood and so complied with whatever it was she really wanted out of them. Gen had been keeping secrets, and when she teased one out of him while knowing the other, he had chosen to not disclose that other, worse matter. He had reasoned that wrong had been done, and had gone on to right it himself without acknowledgement or fuss, and she could not be prouder.

Thinking about this, her lips turned up.

She spoke with him often these days, regularly at tea, with a discussion on the old world here, a fondling of his glass amulet there, and game of rock-paper-scissors elsewhere. She couldn’t bother Patchouli very much, so at first when he came to sit with her day after day she’d only thought it a chance to learn more about what her dear friend had been doing lately, cooped up with her books. However, the boy himself was to her like what she imagined sunlight to be for the lesser things out in the world. She was always pleased with his company, and his foolishness.

The maid who loved her and wore an unheld leash, the witch who loved her and did however she liked without word or request, and the apprentice who loved her and enjoyed her hospitality—though he had demanded it without even a penny to give for it: they were all part of a warm presence she would never give up. But, if she ever grasped that leash; ever made a bid in the library’s halls; ever told any among them to bow... she knew it: they would not a one of them hesitate to listen to and follow her without question, not out of compulsion, but out of will.

These were the strong residents of Scarlet Devil Mansion, and she was the Mansion’s Master. When she had stood before her foundling outsider and made the mistake of having her wing escape the safety of shadows, the pain had been excruciating, and by _her_ will she showed none of that. The book in her hands ended, Remilia folded those wings over herself now, under the blanket cloth, and she looked into the infinite darkness of the ceiling above, thinking happily that she had done well in the best example.

The Master of Fate adored its defiance. Reminded of this, she hugged herself close, and shortly went to sleep.

~~

* * *

Anchor: E10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2388101)

* * *

She tossed the last green piece into her mouth, and crushed it to mush.

 _’Bout now?_ the kappa thought, standing. It had been around ten minutes since she’d last contacted her human friend, about thirty since his sneaking and their telecommunication had begun, and she hadn’t heard any chaos at all since—nor had any silence broken whatsoever. She stepped to the nearby ledge overlooking the ravine, and then stepped off.

From there she fell half of a meter, but with a wish and the river below’s granting of it, Aomu bobbed in the air and began to float instead of fall. While she was of a water race, one might be surprised to know that to the kappa this flight felt natural. Flight elsewhere, however (usually by carriage, vehicle, or device), generally gave unexperienced kappa a twisting feeling in their stomachs, while more experienced kappa learned to ignore this. Well, in general, when away from a shore her brothers and sisters all tended to be very nervous. The river was much more than just the kappa’s home.

Aomu went gently over the way, warily glancing toward her sisters, who were warily checking the exits of the tunnel-caves. _I hope I’m not being suspicious..._ she thought. She was, but the other kappa weren’t paying her attention at the moment—to preoccupied with reports of a possible tengu in their tunnels.

When she reached the other side she lost the river’s blessing and had to land. She began walking then, and threw one more worried and fleeting look over her shoulder before entering the woods.

The outer part of Youkai Mountain, where the Genbu Ravine kept it separate from the Forest of Magic, was quite safe. Not safe enough for Aomu to feel comfortable, of course, but she didn’t worry as much about being attacked here as the climb or the top. To the credit of greater powers, also, there had lately been much less strife on the mountain than there had been not long before. That was the key, however: “not long”. It was for that reason that every kappa in the Ravine went into fear at the suspicion of a tengu in their midst. They were reminded.

Aomu trudged through the brush, nearing the Great Youkai Forest but taking care never to step too close; thinking about many things and trembling about a few. She marched quietly to a specific place: to where one could find some of the smoke joining that which could always be seen rising from the mountain.

“Gen...?” the kappa whispered, pulling a branch down and out her path. She walked into a wash of sticky, damp air—somewhat warm, also, and smelling a bit of coal. Feeling relief, she strode with confidence into the manufactured swamp of the kappas’ making.

A satisfying sound came from the stomping of her feet, and she reflexively squinted in expectation of a scatter of flies that would never come. It was still “winter” after all; were the eggs of little creatures even still alive now? The sleeping frogs? Gen had really made a mess of things.

She looked over the brown and white pools of mud and withered grass, opened up in five places for the caverns’ ventilation, and saw this human not. She scanned the piping that was connected here from the Ravine and turned and twisted overhead like cobalt vines, seeing that they were now dripping with floodwater. She huffed and thought: actually, she _wouldn’t_ scold him if he came out of one of those holes alive. She calmed. This place wasn’t quite the river, but at least it was a nice resting spot.

So she sat down in the muck, and waited.

In time, a hand felt its way over the edge of one of the vents, and a shadow-shape peeked above as well. She stared at it, and it lurched more upward, dragging its black form from the pit, and falling to the wet earth after all of it had emerged. It wasn’t a pleasant scene of birth.

“Fuu...” the shadow breathed, turning over and seeming to stand. “Do you... clean these ever, Aomu?”

“Every few years,” she answered.

“Every few years... I see.” The thing shook, and rose into the air. It then spoke a word she didn’t understand, and all the black slipped off of it until the perfect and unaltered figure of Gen was there, floating beneath the pipe-roof and adjusting his gloves.

“You made it,” she told him.

“I did,” he confirmed, and he looked down at her to ask, “Do you want to hear how?”

“Hm, do we have any time for it?” she asked in return.

“I think we don’t,” he admitted, descending in front of her. “But I was nearly drowned after playing the part of a crow—... _Gods_ , I’ll have to carry you all _filthy_ like that, won’t I?” He was looking down at her now, and especially her mud-caked hands.

“I might be warmer than you now, at least,” she said with a smile as she picked herself up. Gen removed a device she’d given him from his ear and handed it over to her. He handed her, also, the other kappa inventor’s electronic map.

“We’re going first toward the Road of Liminality,” he said, “I _have_ to imagine a way to the Netherworld is there.”

“Uhh, can you protect me and fly at the same time?” she asked, her eyebrows saying everything of her instable confidence in him.

“It won’t be easy,” he was honest, “but ‘easy’ can’t be afforded right now, regardless.” He extended his hand to his friend, and she took it. “You can be sure: I’ll protect you,” he affirmed, ending his talk with, “Thank you, Aomu. I mean that sincerely.”

He pulled her into his arms, turned from the Ravine he’d escaped from, and while looking to the other side of Youkai Mountain, he took flight once again.

~~

* * *

Anchor: F10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1802748)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nmS31bYmZHM> ]  
[Ultimate Truth - CHANNEL † NODE (t=NODE)]

“Not here either!?”

“AAAAAH, GEN!! Stop talking in Japanese! Stop it! _NO NIPPON!_ Not unless you’re casting a spell with it, okay!?”

“But Muenzuka was a bust too? Tch, alright, alright,” he answered in a mumble, thumbing open a flask at his waist. He jerked his head left with force, the Kappa under his arm yelped, and a bullet missed his neck. There were many others, however, and he was thinking this lack of being-hit was entirely to luck so far. The magician’s apprentice let a card slip from his right sleeve, and called to the spirits of air for aid.

The two were above the Forest of Magic, having without thought wandered into a place of many, many fair folk. They were all mad out of their heads, and firing on anything in sight full with joy and power. He hadn’t ever dealt with them like this, and was frankly terrified. The little brats also only seemed to notice _him_ in the sky, rather than his traveling partner, so their shots did not seem to be... far from lethal—not that he really thought 1) they would even care in their very addled state and 2) fairies even had the power of lethality. On the other hand... well, he did not have a good feeling about this.

The cyclone of magic he had summoned began to subside, but he frowned to find that he had only cleared _most_ of the bullets. He’d seen that result before, and was not pleased to know it meant this current bout presented a non-negligible amount of danger.

“Why the heck are there still bullets!?” the girl under his arm yelled. She was holding on to her hat, had been for thirty minutes, and would not let go.

“The result of pairing with an Outsider, I believe,” he revealed, quickly glancing at the flask on his waist. _I used all of it, too... Damn._ He spoke again, saying, “I did swear to you I’d keep you alright, so try not worrying that plated head of yours.”

“I-It’s only caps these days!” she corrected. “Aaahh... I never thought fairies could be scary!”

He brought Aomu into the hold of both of his arms and she squealed again. Pushing himself he began to ascend, hoping to breach the clouds, but the fairies below them weren’t keen on the idea. Blossoming vibrantly like the only flowers in winter, the little creatures followed him with excitement and danmaku.

He’d already asked Aomu to help him with all of this, but without a water source or weapon on her, a fight was out of the question. She also had to navigate for him, pointing him toward likely spots where they might find the Netherworld’s portal.

What they had discovered thus far was that the stationary map seemed to have little need for more accuracy, because what it showed was what they saw: along the barrier of Gensokyo, bits of spring were vanishing. There did not seem to be any rhyme or reason to where they slipped away, which had so far been an immense frustration.

While he thought about this, he also incanted a great deal, and when he was finished, the approaching clouds began to swirl. Immense spikes formed from them and dripped down, and from their tips a harsh and patterned rain fell.

“Water from the clouds!” Aomu shouted, and he glanced down at her, seeing her craning her neck to see the results of his spell. “That’s an idea! I wonder if I can do it, too!”

“Focus on the map, kappa. It’s all we’ve got.” He looked behind her back and far below her, sighing with relief as he saw fairy after fairy be struck and drop, each like a too-eager Icarus. Before he could smirk with satisfaction, however, he saw a strangely long woman far below him, but getting closer. Her clothes were long, her hair was long, and her nails, and her sleeves—and oddly, she seemed to glitter. He cursed under his breath at the sight. _Youkai._

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gXHS_dtRB4Q> ]  
[童祭 ～ Innocent Treasures - 秘密のシンフォニック・スイート (Melodic Taste)]

“Eh? Eh? Hold on!” Aomu began, and while he kept his eyes on the monster below he hoped she, too, hadn’t noticed it, and that she would instead offer some good news. “The Shrine!” she cried. “Now that we’re up here, I can definitely see spring going toward the Shrine!”

What a blessing. However...

“The map’s too small to see the Shrine, isn’t it?” he mentioned. “What makes you say that?”

“The direction! It’s the only way that makes sense!”

“Hmm...”

 _Too bad the Maiden’s probably out. But, the Shrine huh? That_ is _another way to other places, now that I think of it._

“Then let’s go there now,” he said with a firm nod. “Hold tight, we’re going to pass through the clouds.” The kappa braced, and he rushed through white fog, next water droplets, and then crystals. Throughout, his clothing felt like it was being dragged and torn from his body. He hoped it wasn’t.

Within the frigid sheet, he saw the youkai in pursuit, matching his speed for the fun of it. They both left the clouds, and Aomu finally noticed their new company.

“It’s a Tsurara Onna!” she shouted at once. “H-Hey, we’re on an important mission, so could you just leave us alone?”

The Tsurara Onna ignored her, and spoke to Gen instead.

“A human outsider who flies?” she noted with a smirk and a sniff. “That’s, oh, that’s nifty.”

The woman was a little taller than he was, and much more thin. She wore a pleasant and shimmering robe as well as socks and sandals far too inappropriate for the weather. What little color that could be matched to her seemed pale blue, and he thought her face was certainly pretty, but he knew her kind’s stories. He responded immediately.

“Not in the mood to chat, youkai.”

“Is that a kappa you’ve got there?” she asked, as if she hadn’t heard his question.

Now, he began to cast a spell.

“Not right!” she moaned, and water began to bleed out of her, mainly falling from her eyes and her mouth, but also forming along her arms and body. It all quickly froze, making wicked icicles. “I ain’t even attacked you! Jeez, jeez.”

Aomu pocketed her map and gripped to the front of his vest. He kept her firm in his left arm, and reached for his materials with his right.

“Sorry, human, but you’re trying to stop winter, aren’t you?” the Tsurara Onna asked. “I mean, a flying human already got real mean with my friend today. Hey, I was thinking, we could be friends too, or maybe even better? But, man, if you’re gonna stop winter, eh...”

The icicles on her body fell, and a fire slipped off his tongue.

The Tsurara Onna shook her head. “And you just smell so tasty, ya know?”

The cold air erupted, and by all her effort she tried to keep it chilled, but Gen had no interest in play. Flame rolled out from his place without mercy, razing the sky and burning the clouds, melting away the youkai’s wave of icicle danmaku with too much ease.

“Whoa-ho~!” the woman exclaimed, backing to the edge of his magic with her hands in the air. “I know it’s rude of me, but I can’t get shown up like this.” While saying this, she clapped her hands together, one on top the other, smirking languidly and toothily. When she pulled them apart, a great column of ice, sharp at the end, was formed between them. Gen began to chant again, and she heaved the pillar over her shoulder, staring him down. The youkai promptly chucked it, and Gen let it come. Aomu, who was watching against her better judgement, began to shake him.

“Gen! Gen, are you kidding!? Are you kidding—cast something!!”

Irritated at nearly biting his tongue from her motions, he finished the necessary words, and offered a piece of himself to empower them. When the great icicle was half its way to impale him, fire coalesced before him from nothing, building on itself rapidly. He squinted as it blasted forward.

The youkai, still positioned the way she was after throwing the pillar, offered an expression mixing amusement and surprise as well as an “Eh!? Holy shi—” before being met with a cylinder of orange and red. The ice she had thrown became water, and then vapor, in less than a second.

“Not exactly danmaku...” Gen commented, moving forward, “but I really don’t have time.”

Still, he moved carefully. He already knew by now that pacifying most youkai wasn’t ever simple. Making his way, he heard a queer sound at his left, and looking in that direction saw the youkai lying in the clouds below him (or was she just flying there oddly?), saying “ow”. Her left arm and leg were gone.

The youkai continued. “Ow... ow... Maaan... Seriously?” she complained.

“Will you chase me?” he asked.

“ _Should_ ,” she told him. “Go save the world and leave me alone.”

“Fine,” he answered, and he went off for the Shrine.

“Wow, Gen...” Aomu whispered, eyes on the map monitor, “aren’t you really strong?”

“That was convenience, and look:” he directed her attention ahead, showing her the many winged being emerging from below and spinning above, “this number of fairies won’t be as simple for me as acting on the knowledge that fire beats ice.”

“There’s more of them...” she commented. “Then, we’re probably going the right way. The closer you get to the source of an Incident, the more fairies there’ll be.”

 _Alright, Youmu,_ he thought, preparing more spellwork and shifting Aomu to reach more of his bottles and jars, _I hope you’ve not done anything_ too _stupid. Don’t do as I predicted..._

With a shout he formed magic, and began to dodge.

~~

* * *

Anchor: G10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2076319)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSqB_eqlqhE> ]  
[天空に舞う君 - 秋彩 AKIIRO (CarrotWine)]

“Higher!”

“I can’t say I’m comfortable with that. Higher than this?”

“Yes, Gen!”

“Hope my breathing doesn’t go short... Gods, it’s cold.” Gen complained as he rose above the Hakurei Shrine, which had indeed been empty. According to Aomu, a significant number of flower petals were being courted in the skies over and behind the Shrine, and it stood to reason that, perhaps near the barrier here, they could find a way into the Netherworld.

“Where are the fairies?” he asked, observing none.

“They should be here,” Aomu confirmed. “I guess that means somebody took care of them.”

_Reimu? Sakuya? Am I too late? Damn, why’s it so hard to see up here?_

The amount of clouds was quite something, and when they eventually came above them again after having checked the ground, it was as if they flew above airborne tundra. It was a very strange sensation, as the sky here was actually almost spring-like in its heat, making them both sigh involuntarily. Undoubtedly they were close.

When they did arrive above, they finally saw evidence of fair folk, blissfully sleeping or dead and at rest on clouds. They would surely repopulate this area soon, and as they hadn’t yet he was sure it meant whoever had done them in remained nearby.

“H-Hey...! You see that?” the kappa under his arm spoke in a whisper, and he squinted out ahead.

“My...” he uttered. While it was difficult to discern, what seemed to be a closed door, oaken and fit for a giant, was before them. It was also painted in some ways black, and there seemed to be a few symbols emblazoned on it that he had to imagine were part of a seal. He was more confident of this theory as he could see a slowly counter-clockwise turning and rose-colored glyph, larger than the door itself, glowing before it. It was done with a several-pointed star he’d certainly seen in one of his Master’s books. He felt he was also seeing some sort of stone wall in which the gateway was set, but so obscured by clouds he couldn’t tell how far it extended—if it was even there at all. He was certain now: they had made it. When they were even closer, eerie and grand wooden pillars came clear into view, and he slowed to a stop.

“What’s wrong?” Aomu asked. “This is it. This is definitely it.”

He had stopped because he saw a familiar red scarf flowing in the wind, the white-haired woman wearing it tapping a finger on her upper arm. She was flying in front of a trio of oddly-clothed girls (though with the girl being dressed like a maid, perhaps his consideration of them as oddly-clothed rather than her could be judged hypocritical—more so in consideration to his own outfit, in fact). The girls were crowded over one another, and the maid, Izayoi Sakuya, looked up at the door.

“Did she get here first?” he wondered aloud.

“River alive, it’s the maid!” Aomu yelped, and he quickly covered her mouth. She spoke through his fingers: “Just drop me; I don’t wanna know how it feels to get stabbed.”

“I’m not dropping you,” he rejected her tersely. _Sakuya, eh...?_

[] He went to help her.

[] He tried to avoid her, and flew instead to Youmu.

<>

[X] He tried to avoid her, and flew instead to Youmu.

* * *

Anchor: H10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1457471)

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1871512)

* * *

Gen pulled his hand from her face.

“Keep quiet, Aomu. I’m going to stay out the way of her.” He said this, and began moving, a long way, toward the gate.

“Haven’t had enough sneaking...?” the kappa asked, before doing as he instructed.

He watched Sakuya carefully, and began to wonder about the three in front of her. _What are they?_ he thought.

Aomu seemed to have been looking at his face, as she tugged at his coat to show him another device of hers, held awkwardly atop the mapping invention. This one seemed to be a PDA of some sort, and on it she had typed: “I think they’re ghosts”.

 _Ghosts? Would those be in or around the Netherworld?_ Slipping into a cloud (of which, really, there were absurdly many here) he thought about this, and decided it was unlikely: the Netherworld itself was not a place for ghosts, but for departed souls awaiting another world and another life. Ghosts lingered on Earth, not yet awaiting passing on.

At any rate it was impressive, he thought, that Miss Sakuya had taken out three enemies in a battle of danmaku at once. If he decided to talk to her about this Incident after all was said and done, this would be something to ask about. Soon he neared the giant doors, having made it past the maid. He wanted to just stay there and appreciate the feeling of being _nothing_ before a thing so immense, but instead determined that he must not wait; he had to ascend and make his way to the top. From there he would see if the barrier could simply be... flown over. Now he nodded to himself, somewhat sure of his plan. It was then that the maid tapped him on his shoulder.

“Wah!!” Gen shouted shortly and let go of Aomu, who shouted at length while clutching desperately to his vest with one terrified hand. He recovered quickly and took hold of her again, looking at Sakuya who was just behind him.

“Where are you going, Gen?” she asked, politely. And then, “With a kappa no less,” she added.

“S-Sakuya...” he nervously spoke, “I...”

Gen looked to the side, to nowhere in the sky, and did not know what to say. Could he say he hadn’t seen her? That he had, but was feeling tricky? What reason could he give for going past her? For glory and praise at the mansion? To surprise her? What business could he say he had in the Netherworld otherwise? He squeezed at Aomu, attempting to relieve stress.

“Now, where are you looking?” the maid asked, and then said: “There’s nothing over _there_.” When he didn’t answer, she continued. “Does a cat have your tongue...? ... Hm, did you not see me? Ah, or perhaps, you saw me but were in a prankster’s mood? Why did you go past me? Maybe to impress Lady Patchouli and Mistress Remilia? To surprise me past the gate? I wonder, what business could you have in the Netherworld otherwise?”

Without a word in return, Gen continued to grip his kappa.

Sakuya observed and said, “You seem stressed.”

The maid took out her pocket watch, one he’d seen her play with time and again so frequently, so lightly and almost always unseen, that he suspected it told no time at all. Still, she seemed to be using it to check, and when she closed it said: “Gen, I have a bad feeling about you today.”

“Well... Miss... Sakuya, I don’t believe that’s warranted,” he replied with a lie he could hardly cover. Aomu was trembling, with her face in his stomach. He put a hand on her head.

“... I think I’ve seen enough,” Sakuya judged, putting the watch away after seeing his gesture. She shook her head, and she sighed. “Oh, Gen...” she began, looking into his face, “you know, I think I get on with Reimu a bit well now. She’s told me, when an Incident is about you can expect to have five encounters before the last, when the culprit shows themselves. I... have a feeling I haven’t even met this culprit’s second hand, yet, and I have clashed one, two...” she counted on her fingers, “four times of note so far. That would leave two more but...”

A light shined between them, and he saw that Sakuya had brought up a knife and pointed it to the lump in his throat.

“... why do I feel,” she asked, wearing a near-sad smile, “that you’re giving me more work to do?”

Words rose in his mind, but his heart stopped them from passing his lips. Although he knew he had to be rid of Sakuya now, without the idea of “play” between them, he couldn’t bring himself to pull that trigger.

Sakuya saw his Adam’s apple bob, and looked into his eyes again. “Gen,” she said, simply, “everybody knows.”

And with that confirmation, it felt to him like there was poison numbing the inside of his mouth, draining into his throat, filling his lungs and stomach and chest. He grimaced, and she continued.

“We wondered: will he keep it ‘secret’?” she said, pulling the knife back behind her neck. “Or will things happen like they have today?”

The maid opened her palm, and three more knives appeared between her fingers.

“I will not play with you here, Gen. There isn’t any time left for me to clean up after your mess.”

“I can clean up after myself, Sakuya,” he found his voice, and was deliberate in his lack of honorific. “I don’t want to fight you, but would you even trust me to solve this on my own?”

She shook her head. “No, Gen.”

“I suppose after trying to avoid you, you won’t let us work together either.”

“Your hand in this is too warm,” she said. “You care more about that girl involved in this Incident than you care about resolving it.”

He did not answer.

“Then, alright Gen,” said the Maid of the Devil, “you, too, are a resident of Scarlet Devil Mansion. You know as well as I do how to act. That’s why we’re both here. That’s why, if you want to move forth...”

The two locked their stares again. Aomu, still gripping like Gen held her life in his hands (and he might), gazed into the other human’s face.

“... you’ll have to stop me!”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=du0f9_fjhWg> ]  
[Fulcrum - Atelier Escha & Logy Alchemist of Dusk Sky (Gust-Koei Tecmo)]

The spell on his mind finally reached his lips, old words rapidly leaving his mouth, and then the surrounding clouds were returned to water. Sakuya, at so short range, threw her knives.

Aomu pushed from his chest, dropping her things to the earth. She almost fell out of his hands as well, but remained and drew the sky-water fast toward her—too fast, with speed that could make it cut stone. She used it to reduce the knives to only their original parts, making them split, and then shatter. Sakuya saw this and the new playing field (one of floating lakes and streams) and retreated far back and below in two blinks of an eye. The kappa, panting heavily, looked up at her partner with eyes begging for an explanation. He only continued to spellweave.

And then, a book on his waist having flipped open, the water in the air began to rush.

“Will this do?” he asked, still looking sternly at Sakuya, who was looking sternly back.

“Eh? You...?” Aomu began, looking out to what he had done. A wild formation of cloud water was bending and turning madly before and long around them, reaching far over their heads and under their feet. Or, at least, that was Aomu’s immediate impression. On further examination, she saw a clear and manmade architecture to the flowing water. The kappa put a hand to her upper arm, and then to her stomach, and looked at the magician saying, “It’s not just the _same_ , but...”

“I’ll have to ask for your help again, Aomu,” he begged. She shut her eyes, looked into his, and nodded once. So, he let her go.

“ _What_?” Sakuya commented, watching the dark-haired kappa fall. The youkai held her jacket with both her hands, her eyes very closed again, and then stopped in midair. Breathing fast, she opened her eyes once more, and then her arms wide. The maid glared and shot forward as water tumbled down after her in collapsing fury—as if a dam had been ruptured. She rolled left suddenly, and a beam of light that had threated to run through her ran past her instead, slipping into the distance. She looked up and saw her fellow human casting spells above.

“I want to end this without any harm, Aomu!” Gen called. “Easier said than done, I know, but I swear this: that’s what I want, and I’ll have it by these hands!”

“Human idiot...” Aomu answered, arms still spread. She gave him one more despondent look before returning her attention to Sakuya and beginning to ascend along with her friend. They went toward the top of the gate; Sakuya would not allow it. She pulled a card from thin air, and there said its name.

“Time Sign,” she declared, flying fast, “‘Tunnel Effect’!”

She threw out a circle of knives, and then blinked away.

“Right from the start, of course...” the apprentice commented, he breathed out and saw a new army of knives where she had vanished, while the maid herself was a little bit closer than before. He opened another of his books, and began to call for another spell.

“Stay safe!” he heard Aomu shout, and he glanced to see her fly straight into a bend of water. Although it was being supported by his magic, her body took to it all the same as it were a normal river, and submerged there she looked much more self-assured. Sakuya seemed to want to ignore her, firing all her knives and large, violet bullets his way instead—but the kappa kept a careful and yet concerning rain of water on her all the way she went. She would thus blink forward with her time manipulation seemingly only to avoid Aomu’s barrage, rather than to keep pace with him. Still, the assault of her spell card followed doggedly and soon enough reached him. While maintaining his incantation as best as he was able (through grit teeth and with eyes wild to every knife and bullet coming his way), he engaged the storm of bullets and blades and would not be hit.

He flew himself right, mainly, daggers flying through his coat and trying to pin him there—ripping the cloth to strips and shreds. When he saw that this way would eventually lead him to a wall of danmaku, he pushed his foot against the Netherworld door, and with magic of wind and his own flight soared all the way to the other side of the gate with blearing speed. Knife and knife and knife after knife plunged into the wood where he had only just been, while boulders of magic slammed into the door like the furious, knocking fists of giants. He completed his spell and water and light combined, forming liquid crystals of obfuscation.

Sakuya, divided in her attention, nonetheless noticed this action. She made a noise of confusion as her vision shifted, but this proved to be for her a very badly timed pause. Aomu, still underwater and now motioning like she was swinging a bat in her hands (with effort, as if said bat was immense and weighty), there swung a column of water that rivaled the size of the pillars surrounding them. She aimed for the maid, and easily Sakuya was moved by and consumed in it. Without waiting for the effect this had, Aomu began to swim through the flying streams faster than Gen could fly himself, passing him by—with a wink his way—in seconds. She crested water above the gate in a splash, and saw the next world out before her. She opened her mouth to make a noise of admiration, but this proved to be for her a very badly timed pause.

At the waters below her Sakuya appeared outside of the turn, and for a frozen moment she was surrounded by spheres of liquid which quickly fell away. Where she had been, knives exploded outward in two volleys and all directions, accompanied by her largest bullets, which all split and bulldozed any liquid in their paths. The artificial river was almost instantly severed. With this, Gen’s magic was disrupted, and the kappa immediately felt it and despaired.

She cried his name, the water breaking up around her and her own small weight now feeling terrifyingly heavy here in the sky. She fell, reaching to that sky like anything in it might hold her, somehow, and a gloved hand found its way to hers at once. Gen, his tattered coat almost tearing from his body for the winds he had cast to cannon himself here, grabbed hold. Aomu put her other hand over the top of his while tears fell out her eyes. He pulled her up, pulling himself backward and taking them both to crash-land on top of the door.

They fell in a tumble, Gen holding the girl tightly and trying to have his body receive the most of the blows from their rolling. At the end, in a slump, now _he_ was breathing fast. He picked himself up from the dark grain below him and saw that the door was not only wide, but a field’s length thick as well. He supported Aomu, bringing her onto her hands and knees.

“Haa... h-haa... haa... haa... Uuh...” the little kappa breathed, still crying. He kept his hand to her back, and looked toward Gensokyo to see Sakuya flying up after them.

The Maid of the Devil looked particularly menacing to him now, and he wondered if that was from her crimson scarf or just from the way the light from the world of the living now shone behind her. Her confidence in her posture, despite how her body was now dripping wet, also told him that all that he and Aomu had done before the gateway had not been close to enough to stop her. Now he had wasted much of his spirit, and what fuels he still had left had very limited application.

“I’m wondering if you’ll ever change, Gen,” the maid said, looking at him with a shadowed face.

“I think I have changed very much,” he replied, standing and reluctantly pulling away his hand from his kappa’s back. Sakuya descended, a ways away from him, and landed on the door as well.

“When we first fought,” she began, ignoring his claim, “you were on the ground, and I wasn’t.”

“I technically wasn’t either,” he remarked.

“The point stands: you couldn’t fly. I’ve never felt good about it, actually,” she admitted. “So, let’s fight here, like this, on the ground.”

“Technically,” he started, laughing once, “this isn’t the ground either.”

“Look to the other world,” Sakuya said. “There is spring.”

He looked: she was right.

In a night-darkened, hilly and barren, purpled landscape, a sun he could not see also lighting it in places blood-red, a stairway on the horizon ascended even higher than they were now (although in its realm those steps cut through no clouds). At the top, beckoning over a million cherry blossoms from places beyond the barrier, was a glowing and resplendent tree that stood at what seemed even from this vantage point to be an impossible height. A pleasant draft breathed over them. That was it: the Saigyou Ayakashi, and by his measure...

“It nears full bloom, that tree you’ve been reading about,” Sakuya said. “I think I’ll have to stop it for more than bad weather then, hmm?”

“Sakuya,” Gen began, “I’m sorry about all this.”

“Don’t apologize now,” she told him. “Do what you think you must, instead, and just like before... have no regrets.”

With the scene of the land of the dead at one side, and the already distant land of the living fading at the other, they thought the same thing. Spring was so close to being retrieved. The pair of humans from the mansion by the lake thus prepared for an honest rematch. She pulled out her knives, and he pulled out a book. They stood there calm on the edge of the world.

[] Defeat Sakuya.

[] Protect Aomu.

<>

[X] Protect Aomu.

* * *

Anchor: I10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3141800)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bs6BPbaniMg> ]  
[Flash Frost/紫電清霜 - New Atelier Rorona ~ Story Of The Beginning ~ Alchemist Of Arland Original Soundtrack ~ Re-Compilation~ (Gust-Koei Tecmo)]

Gen turned a page over.

“Alright, Sakuya,” he began, putting a finger to a spell, “let’s have your fight.”

The maid simply answered with her knives. He spoke quickly, and bit his tongue.

After exclaiming “Ow!”, strange bright auras began to take form and fold around him, colored yellow, green, red, purple, and blue. Sakuya squinted with recognition on seeing them, but her eyebrow bent that it was surely unfamiliar. On further scrutiny, it was for certain physical material he had summoned, but whatever Gen had spelled was not the Philosopher’s Stone she knew.

Magic of five elements surrounded him, rotating in impressively sized ribbons and cloaking him over all angles. When Sakuya’s first barrage of knives came, they were scattered by those ribbons acting like wavering walls. She looked on and puzzled, feeling this was, again, familiar.

“Want to know how it works?” the magician asked, starting to take off his coat. “You’re right, it’s like Master Patchouli’s grand spell, but I can’t use it offensively. To be honest,” he said, pulling the coat off completely—and she noticed the strange magics shifting oddly at that, “this is more like fairies’ magic. You want to go back to our first fight? Do you remember how it ended?”

As he held the robe over his shoulder and pinched his tongue, the maid glared at him. “You want to fight me while you’re invincible?” she spat. “My word... there should be a limit to how much you can get away with as an Outsider.”

“I will certainly be limited,” he admitted, and he slipped his coat onto the kappa behind him.

The kappa flinched, and she spoke up in a faltering voice, “E-Eh? Gen...?”

“Keep that on, alright?” he advised, not looking at her. Then, at a lower volume he said, “But keep in mind that it won’t stop everything.”

“O-Okay...” she acknowledged, bringing his coat around herself more. The magic followed too, and he stepped out of it.

“Now that’s out of the way,” he spoke, walking a little more and rotating his wrists, “I _encourage_ you to not hold back, Sakuya.”

Sakuya was silent for a moment, but soon enough stood up straight and announced, “I wouldn’t have in either case,” before vanishing.

What seemed to be a thousand knives now surrounded him, shining far as he could see like some several-layered, mirror sea. Seeing this he thought _... I must dial back the arrogance, This is excessive._ He squinted around the Netherworld door’s top, and reminded himself quickly of what he could do.

Fuels were running somewhat low, and because of his use of the Philosopher’s Aegis just before this moment, anything that could help with his use of fire, water, earth, wood, or metal magic was almost out of the question. The Aegis was a trump card of his for truly desperate situations, and it was magic his Master had told him was almost useless. She was somewhat (or perhaps even more than that) correct: it had some deep flaws to its structure, and was still something he needed to put more research into.

So, he had some leaf-full mixture and aether left for light and air magic respectively. His spirit was perhaps about halfway gone. For now he thought, light and wind wouldn’t be of any help to him.

_Spirit it is._

The curtains of silver came fast to skewer him, and he spoke with speed again to match it, thinking he soon needed a break on his vocal cords and a nice cup of honey tea. When his incantation was done and the blades were upon him, he winced at the familiar but still unused-to feeling of draining power from inside him, and scattershot magic translucent and black began to shoot out of his front and back in gem-shaped bullets. They clashed with the knives – most of them – and allowed the young apprentice to begin moving through to where he believed Sakuya to be. He leapt forward and turned ‘round, ducking for a series of daggers to fly over his head. He slipped through safely, and soon enough spotted his fellow human not many meters away from him. When he did, and she’d noticed, she disappeared again, adding more knives.

The scene above the doorway to the Netherworld thus became a glittering, sharp storm, awesome in power and strange in elegance. He was forced low and to leap more, scanning ever quickly for Sakuya who would not relent, and slipped away whenever he found her.

 _Not flying here... really causes some problems..._ he thought. _And while I took the spell cards I had from my coat’s sleeves, I don’t think any of them will really help me here. Sakuya is steadfast in her trying to pin me down._ He stopped where he was—for a small second safe. He sighed, and made a foolish decision.

He closed his eyes, and spun open his jar of leaves.

At once a high number of knives sliced past him, and he felt that he’d narrowly avoided at least one of them. While running and swaying in whatever vague directions he had wagered might constitute “openings” in Sakuya’s “patterns”, he spoke new words for a spell while fiddling with the top of his vial of aether. The black magic he had summoned before was still firing, and saved him regularly... however, it did _not_ save him entirely, and so the maid looked upon all that he was doing—blind and heedless—completely dumbfounded.

 _Gen might actually die,_ she thought, standing still and watching. _I suppose Lady Patchouli won’t like that._

And though this she determined, she did not stop her knives. She kept him in her gaze instead, listening for perhaps-recognizable words in the spell he was now preparing. She was made to frown again when “lux” passed his lips, and she grit her teeth when his magic became manifest.

The stored light in his leaves exploded forth in simple, powerful luminescence, so powerful that any nearby would be at once blinded by the intensity. It was only made more pervasive, also, as it bounded from every one of the maid’s silver knives. Sakuya in that instant found herself stunned, and had to shut her eyes. And shortly after doing so, she felt a hand on her breast.

“Got you,” she heard.

And she peeked to see the magician’s apprentice pushing into her with a satisfied grin cut through his face. She could see that a knife had pierced his left leg, another his right arm, and, apparently, another had landed in his left side. His eyes were full-closed, and she knew at once that this had been his gambit: to confuse her enough to keep her in one remembered place. She thought then to stop time (for what good it could even do with the battlefield too-illuminated), but another, quicker spell was already ready and cast before she could accomplish the action: a straightforward and strong blast of air magic. She was thus forced, instantly, back.

Wind buffeted her with incredible power and at once she felt strongly in pain, more as if she had been caught in a riptide than a storm. She worried she would be cast off the door, but soon felt herself being pushed down into its grain instead, and so dragged violently backward like she was being used to sand the top. She tumbled into an eventual but unkind stop, clothes in rags, and looked above to see more magic in the air coming in little bursts of cyclones. She stopped time then.

In a soundless, infinite moment, she saw Gen far from her still smiling; hand over where she’d seen a blade in his core. There were about fifteen shots of his magic coming down onto her, and she herself... couldn’t move. She attempted to stand, and only managed to turn from her back to her stomach. She pressed her hand to the ground and pushed, but the agony from his attack had her drop in a stopped second. Time resumed, and punishment came relentless.

Nearer to Aomu, Gen stood slouching. The knives within him hadn’t torn through anything too terrible, and the wards his Master always laid on his clothing had managed to help him somewhat. They were indeed not any true sort of “defense”, but they helped protect her “things”: the outfit he wore was sturdier, and the books he carried at least were almost indestructible. This had proved to work well enough against Sakuya’s weapons that any wounds he earned were kept from being too deep for him to move. Still, being stabbed was no joy, and he removed the blades to drop them bloody to the floor, and they clattered through a silence that told him he’d won. Walking back toward Aomu, he wished his Master knew proper curative magics: something for fieldwork.

While thinking this over, he felt a strange but inured sensation slip over all of his perception. He turned his head, and found Sakuya behind him.

“Wha—?” he was cut off, as the maid returned his favor by sending him flying forward with an enormous, lavender bullet. The force of her attack ripped the back of his vest and shirt open, rending through both a great and perfect circle.

Gen desperately held onto his hat as he tumbled, legs in the air, ahead, narrowly keeping his face from smashing into wood. From how it had felt, he was sure Sakuya had used at least half of her magic in that strike (or he at least _hoped_ she had—the pain was like _lightning_ ). When he stopped rolling over, and after a few seconds felt he could stand up, he looked to find the hobbled maid casting wave after wave of fully human-sized projectiles in his direction. Between her, and him, was Aomu.

“Aomu...!” he managed to say, standing himself up and kicking from the ground. “S-Stay put, the spell won’t...!”

He lurched forth, unable to tell her that with too much movement his Aegis would break apart. The warning still reached her, however, and she remained. That was to the good, but he didn’t know whether the shield could hold against Sakuya’s barrage. Not caring for the honor of this fight any longer he ran, jumped, and then flew to the front of his friend. He thought: he probably had spells to stop the coming barrage, but nothing was coming to mind. An avalanche of witchcraft approached, and worse: Sakuya came with it, flying now as well and with knives in her hands again. He had imagined his attack wouldn’t take her out... in fact, it was never supposed to hurt her in any serious way, but it _was_ intended to put her down for a minute at least. That maid really was a monster.

He stood before Aomu with his arms outstretched, his legs wide, and his eyes shut.

... And nothing came.

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67meVWgFoQQ> ]  
[Flash Frost/紫電清霜 - Atelier Rorona Arrange Tracks (Gust-Koei Tecmo)]

A smell of grass and flowers filled the air.

He opened his eyes, finding a human-sized phantom turning serenely before him.

“Gen, I think it’s far too early for you to die,” said Youmu. “And to die on death’s door would be the height of sin!”

The gardener of the Netherworld stood before him with her Roukanken drawn, blade stopping well those of Sakuya, who remained aloft with a frustrated expression. Gen looked up and saw that where there had been just before gigantic bullets, there were now instead trails of vapor indicating slashing. The remains of Sakuya’s violet magic drifted down over them all in little stars that faded into nothing. He looked at the girls in front of him again, struggling with their weapons sparking against one another. The half-phantom gripped with all her strength and brought her sword sharply down. Sakuya retreated at once, flying far back. Youmu then took a combative stance, and she spoke once more:

* * *

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3145041)

* * *

“So, it’s a rescue!”

“Miss Youmu!” he shouted, and the girl almost fell over.

“Hey! You don’t need to shout, I’m right here, aren’t I!?” she complained, turning slightly to glare at him.

He felt in every part of his being that he wanted to hug her, his lips turning up without thought, but instead of doing that quickly shook his head and became stern. “Youmu,” he said, “spring—”

“Never mind that,” she interrupted, turning from him, “there is an intruder aiming to reach Hakugyokurou, and it is my duty to stop them.”

Sakuya looked oppressively sullen, composing herself in cold, refined, animosity. She had entirely run out of patience.

“So you’ve come out,” said the maid, “the culprit’s second hand.”

“So this is why everyone here was getting noisy...” Youmu noted aloud, “it’s because not one, but two living humans have come.”

“Finally... I’ve finally gotten to the source, eh?” Sakuya muttered, lightly shaking her head. “You know it took me a whole day to get here.”

“In coming here you have exercised great composure,” Youmu complimented, smiling pleasantly. “This is Hakugyokurou,” she announced. “The deceased live on in this place. Acting on the common sense of the living will only cause you trouble.”

Sakuya answered with her eyes closed, stating emphatically: “The dead don’t speak.” She opened her eyes then, and demanded, “Now, return the spring you stole.”

“Wait just a moment,” the half-phantom insisted.

“A moment is no good.”

“In just a moment, the Saigyou Ayakashi will reach full bloom. That could never happen with a normal spring.”

“I was saying I have no care for this.”

Youmu continued unabated. “The trace of spring you brought here could bring the Saigyou Ayakashi to full bloom.”

“Are you listening? Goodness, I’ve traveled through _that_ cold, only to find an _incredibly_ selfish idea here.”

The gardener said with a light voice, “But it’s warm here, isn’t it?”

“No, enough,” Sakuya spoke and shook her head. She stood straight again and brought her knives up, “ _The dead do not speak._ ”

“Right. They don’t speak,” Youmu answered, eyes briefly closed. She brought her own blade up, and plainly avowed, “I will take what warmth of spring you have away, and leave you in silence.”

“I wonder, can my knives cut through phantoms as well?” Sakuya mused.

“If you wish to speak of cutting...” Youmu began, “then I must inform you: the things that cannot be cut by my Roukanken, forged by youkai...”

Her spirit surged.

“... are next to none!”

Both rushed forward then, and clashed in brilliance above.

 _Damn...!_ thought Gen, gritting his teeth and glaring. _I wanted to see if I could reason with her...!_

He looked back on Aomu, who sat staring and transfixed, bullets dancing in the reflection across her eyes. _Since those two are fighting now, I don’t have to worry about the lethality of the battle at least._ With that reassurance to himself, Gen relaxed his gaze somewhat, and turned back to the fight.

Youmu and Sakuya fought now with nothing held back, throwing what seemed to be their best after their best in patterns, all evoking beauty and determination. Metal was struck against metal, sound loud and far-reaching, and winds of force often shot down from their bout, rippling his clothes. Just looking, he did not know who would win... he only knew that the tree had to be stopped. The white-haired girls he knew slowed and stopped time through their bout, cleaving light and painting the sky with cascading power. While he could not tell who might win, what irked him more was being unsure which between the two he favored for victory...

He and Aomu gazed in awe for at least a minute of their clash, however soon enough the lights faded and a lull was granted to the two combatants. Both landed to ground, Youmu landing again in front of him. Snapping out of his daze of admiration, he arrested her immediately, clasping a hand on her shoulder and tugging her back.

“G-Gen! I am fighting!” she snapped. Sakuya seemed to take this moment to breathe, and to contemplate rushing for the mansion of the dead beyond the stairs.

“Miss Youmu, I have to stop the Saigyou Ayakashi from blooming,” he said, and the girl was bewildered.

“W-What!? But you _helped_ m—! Egh, ah...” The child scowled, knowing that officially she had never implicated this man in her business. While she hadn’t been good at keeping them such, her motives had always been intended to be secret. This knowledge of her own betrayal seemed to make her falter, but she was quick to find conviction again. “I can’t disobey Lady Yuyuko, Gen.”

“I can’t ask you to,” he assured her, “and I can’t be sure that I can do anything to stop the tree, but I have to try.”

“Why? Why do you have to?” she asked him seriously.

“I don’t think you know what it does, Miss Youmu. I can’t be sure your mistress does either... but I do. I am part the reason for it almost being awake, and now I will by all my power put it back to sleep.”

And, he could see that the half-phantom was torn, the expression in her eyes pained. Her grip on the Roukanken was intense enough that he thought she might bleed it, and she was next frowning at the wood below her feet. Eventually, she told him, “Gen... you are... you are somebody that I... can call a partner.” She looked up at him, eyes steady and severe. “I will invite you to Hakugyokurou as my guest, but...”

She turned from him, to Sakuya who was preparing to escape, raising her blade to point to the maid. “After I finish this enemy, you will be the next.” Without looking at him she continued, her hair swaying slightly in the wind. “I will make sure your kappa friend is safe, but I cannot say the same for you. Gen, it is strange, but I... despite being me, cannot be two things... You should hurry.”

She posed to return to battle.

“I allow this because I trust you.”

Once more, she went to fight his peer from the mansion.

Gen remained there, unsure of how he should feel. Youmu met blades with Sakuya again, and with a conviction he knew he admired clear in her eyes and brow. Sakuya had the same, but it had not been Remilia who set her out this day. He knew the loyalty in Youmu’s heart, and reflected it. While he was not sure how to feel about her conviction, despite the problems it caused, remembering his Master he thought... truly, he found the sword-wielding girl beautiful, and that was not only in how she appeared. At the very least, if anything, the magician’s apprentice did not regret how he felt about her. As she and the maid put their all into play, with Gensokyo’s seasons on the line, he found himself smiling.

Suddenly, however, he winced. His side had smarted with intense pain. So, he looked down at his wound.

“Just hold still,” said Aomu, tying bandage around his waist after having snaked her hands into his shirt through the hole Sakuya had created. The Aegis still swirled around her, and he saw that she was uninjured. “These are bandages I made,” she continued, “they’re just as good for you as they’d be for a kappa. I also put a salve to your cut that should help the wound heal clean.”

“Aomu... I’ve got to apologize to you too,” he said.

“Shut yer mouth and get going,” she replied, smirking as she finished applying her treatment. She looked up and met his eyes. “I wanna know what it’s like to be friends with a hero.”

“I can tell you,” he said, smiling in return.

Aomu grinned now, exclaiming, “What the heck! So cheesy!” She then laughed an awkward laugh, chuckling and blushing.

Gen looked over to the Saigyou Ayakashi as danmaku exploded overhead. He addressed his companion once more, “Alright, wish me luck, good Aomu! Cheer me on!”

“Go, Gen! Do your best! You’ve got this!” the kappa cheered, pumping her fist.

“You bet,” he answered, hopping into the sky and tugging down his hat. “Stay safe, friend.”

“Stay alive,” she wished, and he nodded once before flying headlong into the Netherworld.

Colors and knives were left behind him, like a carnival had erupted above the gate. He looked back at the chaos, and forward into a new kind. Although Youmu called him a “guest”, the residents of this land were unwelcoming.

“Daaamn... I _really_ don’t want to deal with any of this,” he whispered through his teeth at the sight of spirits before him hurling death-smelling magics in vast barrages. He still had enough sense and wherewithal to dodge, but deliberately kept from returning any fire. There were fairies here, too, surprisingly, and just as trigger-happy (unsurprisingly) but still he refrained. He flew over the dead lands as peacefully as he was able (insofar as his progress was pacifistic, not gentle and calm), and soon began ascending the dangerous stairs, steps blurring gray and black beneath him as the world itself blended between shades of dark lavender and amber. The weather grew warmer, and he noticed the sky was no longer full of flower petals. Instead, flowering trees lined the staircase, and the Saigyou Ayakashi pulsed dully in the distance. This was all nice indeed. However...

Every thinking thing in the Netherworld seemed to genuinely want him dead, and he wondered why that might be as he traveled toward the youkai cherry blossom. He wondered if the Saigyouji Yuyuko surely at the top of these stairs was the one controlling all of them, or perhaps they were all like fairies and agitated or excited due to the strange phenomenon and power. Most likely, he thought that a living thing in the land of the dead should perhaps not also be alive, so they sought to remedy that in patterns of killing danmaku that had his heart thumping and his forehead sweating. He grabbed at his wounded arm, keeping some patterns to a path just behind his careful movements, soaring through others and only hoping for the best. He was struck twice as he went, and he truly felt like those two hits were the two worst-feeling things he had ever experienced in Gensokyo outside of dealing with Yuuka. They had each hit in the same shoulder, and he didn’t like thinking about it, but he felt like his arm was being wrenched out.

Panting, he reached halfway up the staircase, realizing it was truly absurdly long. Then, he heard a sound of magic from behind him.

 _Youmu...!?_ he thought, bringing down his brow. He dodged instinctively and looked back to see a yellow laser flying past. So, he spoke, “Marisa...!?”

“Bingo!” said a distant girl following after him. “So you really are here, Gen!” the little girl shouted. He saw that she wasn’t alone: the Shrine Maiden was with her. His heart sank.

_They got past Youmu!? What about Aomu!? Damn it, damn it...!_

Grinding his teeth together, he ran through various possibilities in his head, and many courses of action he could take from here. The children neared him, but only Marisa came to match his speed. Reimu flew past without even a glance in his direction.

“We decided the one who deals with you doesn’t have to make dinner for the next week,” the blond witch explained, nearing him on a broom. “You’re a real pain after all.”

“What happened to Sakuya?” Gen asked, looking to Reimu’s figure growing distant, “Did you pass her at the gate?”

“She was fighting some green girl,” Marisa said, “and there was a green kappa too, but the girl wouldn’t even let us go near her.”

Gen’s emotional state complicated and he was full of side-by-side pangs of panic, relief, and happiness. Eventually he palmed his face, and from between his fingers looked at Marisa.

“So, you want to fight me. Why?” he asked.

“‘Cause you shouldn’t be here,” she answered like it was nothing. “And honest, mostly ‘cause Reimu got a bad feelin’ seein’ you here.” She grinned. He grimaced.

“What intuition...” he remarked. After sighing, and feeling frustration that his progress had slowed, he told his fellow magician, “I’m trying to resolve this Incident. I know how to, and that’s why I’m here.”

“Hehh... really?” Marisa mumbled, but it didn’t seem like she was disbelieving. “What’s your plan to do that? Me an’ Reimu, we were just gonna beat up the boss and take spring back.”

“I’m here because I’m not sure that will work. More importantly, the reason they took spring was to revive an ancient, dangerous tree. Really, that’s what I want to stop.”

“Oh? Hmm. So, an apprentice magician who hasn’t even been studying for a year wants to try stopping a... an evil? Evil tree? One that’s older than, what? How old?” the little witch prodded, her arms folded.

“Definitely older than the Barrier.”

“Well, you’ve got ideas,” Marisa admitted with a shrug. Then, she looked at him seriously, “but right now we need something we know will probably work. This is, like, actually a really big problem, Gen. What if you mess with that tree and make things worse?” Marisa, squinting with a hand over her mouth in contemplation, shook her head. She looked at him seriously once more. “Now I’ve gotta stop you for a completely different reason.”

And, Gen laughed, it being his turn to shake his head. “Gensokyo... is really too much,” he managed to say in few breaths. “Even when we want the same thing, you just want a fight.”

“Yeah,” said Marisa.

He glanced back to the Saigyou Ayakashi, and then returned his gaze to her.

[] Steady on, convince her to help.

[] Risk a fight.

[] Try to get away.

<>

[X] Steady on, convince her to help.

* * *

Anchor: J10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1805787).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1658513)

* * *

“So, am I understanding right, Marisa?” he began, folding his arms. “You will face and fight me, while Miss Reimu takes on Saigyouji Yuyuko.”

“‘Saigyouji’?” the witch asked, confused.

“So you’re letting her take the credit then? For a few meals?” he prodded.

“Eh!? That’s not it!” Marisa rebutted, quickly shaking her head. “You’re an outsider! Since you don’t fall under the rules, you’re a pretty big nuisance.”

“I am an outsider who wants to do the same as you,” he replied, eyes closed and putting his hands up in a shrug. He snuck a glance to the youkai tree not very far away from them now. “Aren’t we Magicians? Why don’t we resolve this Incident with our heads rather than our fists like the Shrine Maiden would?”

The young girl gave him a frown, glaring too. She frowned even more, and spoke, “Magic’s all about firepower,” she said, “it’s gotta be flashy.”

“A flower storm from the restoration of spring will surely be that,” he insisted, “but if the Lady Saigyouji is defeated and the tree remains... Marisa, that will be worse.”

His fellow magician put her hand beneath her hat and began to roughly comb her fingers through her hair, eyebrows knit in deep consideration. “Well...” she eventually said, “I definitely don’t like the thought a’ Reimu getting one up on me.”

“Yeah!” he cried at once, leaning forward and surprising her. “Let’s show that dumb girl what for.”

[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=xkCQNO2e0Ng> ]  
[ultimate_blossom - 東方恋想郷 ～Grazing Heart～ (Seventh Heaven MAXION)]

“... Alright, Gen, I like the sound a’ that. Stupid Reimu can barrel on ahead on intuition like always.” She gave him a grin, and then a raised thumb. “Let’s figure this Incident out right!”

“Absolutely,” he answered, nodding. “Come on! The tree is close and we don’t have any more time!”

“Then you’d better hang onto me,” the girl said, nodding backward. He went behind her, grabbed the back of her broom, and readjusted his scarf. They began to fly, much faster than he alone ever could, to the wicked tree.

Marisa pulled him to the top of the staircase of Hakugyokurou, and then paused to witness the estate. Gen, also watching, sure enough wanted to stay.

“Beautiful...” he said.

“Yeah...” Marisa agreed.

The mansion of ghosts and spirits was beyond large, impossibly reaching out beyond the horizon, and was cool-colored in a strangely gorgeous gray. Stone and green gardens awaited them, Zen pebbles raked into patterns that brought about a sense in the apprentice of solemnity, while cherry blossoms, and many other flowers of spring drifted through the air in enchanting spots of color. He thought this, as well: that the Japanese mansion itself, though cold and still, evoked very much grandeur. The almost shapeless departed swirled through the air, and to one main place. He looked, and saw the girl clad in red and white in the distance, facing a person surrounded by spirits, clothed in sky blue robes, and by her posture incredibly relaxed. They flew in place before a tree the size of a small mountain. The Saigyou Ayakashi was bright and vibrant, and it was already beckoning him.

“Yick. Gen, you feel that?” Marisa asked, after a shiver had gone through her.

“That’s the Saigyou Ayakashi;” he answered, “nasty, isn’t it?”

“Talk about youkai power...” she commented, glancing back at the Hakugyokurou grounds. “I’ll have to come back here later,” she said, and she sped to the base of the youkai tree.

They flew below the feet and notice of the Shrine Maiden and the Mistress of the House, looking up at them as they passed. He wasn’t certain, but they seemed to be talking about flower viewings...

As he was dragged ahead, his eyes lingered on the Dead Princess of Hakugyokurou, and he found himself fascinated in a way dissimilar to how he felt whenever he saw Youmu. This girl... in her flowing robes, with her lavender hair falling almost wildly from a strange, ghostly cap... Her slack demeanor somehow very charming... Of course, her face... Without a doubt, he was sure Saigyouji Yuyuko was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, though knowing she was dead made him wonder if she quite counted.

They reached the roots of the youkai tree, and the sky became bright with danmaku.

Marisa stopped, and flung him from her broom. ”The battle’s started! I’d say we’ve got like six minutes!” she cried, and he gave her a dull and annoyed look after recovering from his almost-crash into the giant cherry tree.

“Seals, seals...” the younger magician mumbled with her arms crossed and her eyes shut. He gazed up at the Saigyou Ayakashi, and was stunned for a moment. Standing before this tree felt to him like standing before a kaiju, and what was worse: he could feel it _thinking_.

“Ugh...” he moaned, and he stepped away from it, glancing at Reimu and Saigyouji Yuyuko. The Princess was, with her hands out as if basking in the sun, leaving no freedom in the sky for Reimu to navigate. He turned back to the youkai tree, and started considering how he might deal with it.

 _Can Marisa and I just syphon off the season from it...? Or, has it been tied to Saigyouji Yuyuko...? No..._ He touched the tree, feeling over its bark. _It’s the tree’s. They’ve given spring to the tree here._ He looked up into its branches, determined. _We can take it back._

“Gen, you figured something out?” his companion asked.

“I have, but I’m not sure if it can help yet...” he mumbled, looking the colossus all over and trying to sense its spring. The branches? The trunk? The roots? “Can you understand the seal on it? I’m sure there is one.”

“Seals...” she shook her head, not to Gen’s notice, “no, that’s more Reimu’s thing.”

“But magic is magic,” he said, standing. “And this is magic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” the girl agreed, holding firm the handle of her broom, “but, it’s weird: I think a youkai might’ve done it. I don’t think I can recognize this structure.”

“Marisa...” he moaned, meeting her eyes with disappointment in his, “if you can’t figure it out, how can I?”

“I can tell _more_ than you,” she insisted, pouting. “That seal there’s still good as whenever it was set up,” she looked up at the blossoms above, and Gen followed her gaze. “This punk’s fighting back against it, and those ghosts are helping it get strong enough that it might even manage. Look,” she told him, pointing, “that shimmer, like the world’s splittin’ on its ‘skin’; that’s some kinda border, and it’s holding tough, stoppin’ it from bloomin’.” The little witch then grumbled, and he looked back at her to see her gnashing her teeth. “Aaaagh, but I’m just guessing!” she said. “The seal’s, like... I dunno if that’s really what it’s doing, just that it’s still working and the more spring this thing gets, the more it can struggle. I’m pretty sure at full bloom, the border’d shatter.”

“Thank—” he started, but the two of them nearly fell over from a sudden feeling of overwhelming power. The pair of humans looked back to where Reimu and Saigyouji Yuyuko were fighting, and the Ghost Princess seemed to have summoned some kind of artifact behind her back: a fan fit for a giant god to hold, pulsing purple light and showering Reimu with a thousand bullets.

“The heck is that?” Marisa asked.

Gen did not know, and instead of trying to answer returned to his previous thought. “I was going to say thanks,” he said. “That means we don’t have to worry about the seal, only the spring inside this creature’s body.

“I was collectin’ spring on the way here, but I wasn’t really thinkin’ about it,” Marisa mentioned, lifting one of her hands. A little cyclone of flowers rotated her raised pointer finger.

“I only got one petal’s worth of spring myself,” he replied, and as if on cue, said petal revolved past his front.

“How do you take spring outta somethin’?” she asked, placing both her hands on the Saigyou Ayakashi’s bark.

“That will depend,” he told her. “Get to the sky and try to coax it out of the flowers and branches, I’ll try the roots.” The other magician nodded, and then did as she was told while he sifted through dark soil.

 _Where... Where is it... Where’s your grip weakened you infernal tree?_ He wondered, and grew increasingly anxious. The tree seemed to keep its supply of spring firmly locked inside of itself, and though he could feel the good season flowing through the wood of it, he couldn’t draw any out. From Marisa’s silence he imagined she’d also not. Saigyouji Yuyuko declared another spell card, making for three.

 _There has to be something to the trunk, then!_ he thought, and there was a commotion just behind him. He turned, seeing a sword stuck in what seemed to be (at least from the scent) a giant candy star. “What?” he spoke, and he looked to see that Konpaku Youmu held that sword.

 _She finished...!_ he shouted in his head as Marisa came back down to the earth, in front of him.

Youmu looked ragged, her shirt sleeves torn and falling off, and her dress having been run through by several blades. Aomu was nowhere beside her. He was worried enough to ask the gardener about the kappa’s wellbeing, but knew that she would not answer him.

“Hand it over...” the gardener spoke weakly, freeing her sword and holding it out to her side. Her head was dropped, and he could not see her eyes. “Give me the last bit of spring!”

“After all that trouble collecting my spring,” Marisa said, smirking, “I ain’t just handin’ it over to you that easy.”

“We are one step short of full bloom!” she shouted, finally lifting her head. She was on the edge of desperation, and looked straight into Marisa’s eyes, determination and, from what he could see, some water filling hers.

“Or better yet,” the little witch began, not missing a beat, “what would you say if I were to snatch away all of _your_ spring to make cherry blossoms bloom for myself?”

“I will not hand over my spring,” Youmu vowed, bowing her head again and bringing herself to her swordsman stance.

“Me neither,” Marisa answered.

“Youmu...” Gen muttered without thinking.

“... The things... that cannot be cut by my Roukanken, forged by youkai...” the half-phantom breathed, gathering her strength again “... are as good as none!”

“No way through the branches, Gen—get on the trunk!” Marisa shouted as she spun her mini-Hakkero over her palm, and at once a second spell card duel started below the one in the skies. The young man witnessed Gensokyo’s two Incident Resolvers excitedly and fiercely fighting to the end, and felt invigorated. With this sense of renewal, and feeling like he hadn’t even been wounded at all, he lifted into the air and began to further examine the tree.

“Six Realms Sword! ‘A Single Thought and the Infinite Kalpas—Lunatic’!”

_Youmu..._

“Cherry Blossom Sign, ‘Perfect Ink-Black Cherry Blossom—Bloom’.”

_Saigyouji...?_

Color exploded, and he almost could not see, He was forced to hide himself to the tree as bullets and... butterflies(?) fired and fluttered past. With patterns getting very intense, he was given the distinct impression of climax.

Still, the tree was impenetrable. Flitting from one part of it to another, he reached spiritually within it, only to be refused over and over. In frustration, he yelled, “Just give it up already!”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zXISz-68sgM> ]  
[幽雅に咲かせ、墨染の桜 ～ Border of Life - 桜華幻奏 (NEUTRAL)]

But it did not answer, nor did it yield. The great monster only stayed still save for its spirit beating. It remained, reaching overhead and making a wicked, expansive, rose and black colored canopy. He stared into its ridged skin, clawing his gloved hands on it, and suddenly felt full of life.

“Hah—! ... That’s...” He gasped, and whispered, eyes going wild over the wood. “That... It’s... here! Here, I—!” he exclaimed, pushing his hand to a part of the plant. Then, brightness consumed his vision, and a burst of sound roared throughout the Netherworld. He thought for a moment that, having found a weak spot, he had extracted all of spring at once. Instead, as white light faded and he looked toward the two youkai exterminators, he saw that Reimu had successfully finished Saigyouji Yuyuko.

“Ah... no, the tree is still...” he muttered, staring again at the beast against his hand. It was still full of nature, and what was worse, power seemed to be welling within it. “No...! Shit!” he cried, and a ring of energy erupted from the trunk, viciously blasting him away.

“What!?” he heard Reimu cry.

“Oi, what’s up with that!?” came Marisa’s voice.

But he did not hear Youmu.

Stopping his flight backward and nearly overturning, he made fast for the tree, hearing, “Hah!? Come on, I just _beat_ you!”

An ethereal voice followed:

“Resurrection Butterfly.”

“Oh crap,” Gen grumbled, and after shimmering and glowing for a second, the tree pulsed once, twice, and a cloud of lilac butterflies billowed from it in a veritable avalanche. Beams of blue and pink light began to fire out as well, and though he was not dueling her, he was forced to dodge a revived Saigyouji Yuyuko’s danmaku.

 _What the--!? Is she breaking the rules? I guess she must not be, but...!_ Though he tried his utmost, Gen was struck again on the shoulder he had hurt before, a butterfly landing there heavily and making his mind go white for an instant. He recovered, but knew he couldn’t suffer any more. _Aagh! The tree is reaching full bloom! No! Nope! I’m stopping this right now!_

_I’m fixing this damned mistake!_

The boy struggled to make his way through the screen of dead magic, and found the spot on the tree’s trunk that he had found before, shouting, “There! Now I’ve got you, youkai twig!” He slammed his palm to the bark.

In the incorporeal body of the youkai tree’s self, a tear was violently opened up, and the spring held inside threatened to flood out... but did not.

“Oh what the hell!” he cried, but, when he had rent its spirit, he had fast discovered a few other places where the “skin” of this being was weak. “Alright, Saigyou Ayakashi; I’ll just keep it up.” The great youkai pulsed again, and the smell of death filled the air more.

 _I won’t be hit, I won’t be hit...!_ he chanted within himself, plummeting to an area below, where he had “seen” a place to wound.

With each tearing, the tree and Dead Princess seemed to rebel only more, and at times he spotted the tenacious Reimu, firing nothing and instead trying to simply survive against vibrant, massive waves before Yuyuko and the tree. All the while, he could feel the tree reawakening. Its hunger was extreme, alarming, and too palpable.

He ripped the spirit flesh away thrice more, and could feel Gensokyo’s spring beating hot against the youkai’s physical body, like it wanted to return. With the path he took, the last place was now far above him, and he flew for it with all haste, but could sense the dark precipice of this being’s revival.

“I won’t make it...!” he exclaimed. “No! No, no, no, no!”

 _Come on...! Fly faster! Why must I be so_ slow _?_ he thought, and he noticed... the tree seemed to be breathing. His heart sank, and he was deeply compelled to quit there, even slowing down before a sweeping pattern could overtake him. The space above was soft-colored: blue and rose, and yet those usually pleasant shades filled him now only with dread.

 _I screwed up..._ he admitted to himself as the curtain spread ever further. He winced into the wall. _Of course I couldn’t..._

Then, he heard a shout.

“Hey Gen!”

Below , Marisa him had both her hands cupped before her mouth.

“I’m gonna guess you know where you’re going and give you this!”

The young girl reached behind herself and got her broom, tossing it a bit up and putting her mini-Hakkero under its bristles. “Don’t break your arm!” she yelled, wearing a brilliant smile, and the broom was thus launched like a rocket.

“Oh fuck!” he swore in English, wincing harshly and raising his arms at the sight of blue fire blossoming wild underneath him. In spite of the blinding intensity, he made himself turn toward it, and started to descend, his hand again outstretched.

Avoiding lasers, bullets, and butterflies, while also aiming for her broom, Gen sped downward on a course for the stick, severely hoping that he would not miss. His prayers were answered as he met with the tool soon, and on grabbing it was propelled horribly skyward, his body whipped suddenly like a noodle, and his arm almost wrenched from its socket by the force. He screamed at the sensation, and held on tight, rubbing at his right shoulder and gritting his teeth.

He steered the broom much as he was able as air deafened him and threated to push him off this ride. Eyes blearing, and mouth mercifully covered by his scarf, he shot, shaking terribly, toward the final point. He reached his left hand toward the cherry tree, getting close as rays of light only just shaved above and below him.

The last unstable place almost seemed as if it were being protected, the bullet screen becoming much too dense to see anything, his vision being obscured by so many butterflies that he could only barely dodgy. But, on faith, he put out his hand where it should touch, and as luck would have it struck the bark on the sore spot just as he went past. He let Marisa’s broom go and, while dropping, pulled asunder the shell of spirit protecting the Saigyou Ayakashi’s spring. Sound and sight were for a moment taken from him entirely, and both returned along with the stolen spring in a full ridiculous and majestic display.

The flowering youkai tree quaked, and an enormous swirl of petals flowed out and off of it, scattering everywhere as warmth and breeze stormed Hakugyokurou. As life filled the world of death, the great tree was forced to slumber again, and nature began to drift back to the wintery lands of Gensokyo. Every sensation of spring could be felt here at once, and despite all that he’d gone through having left him badly aching, he could not help but feel joyful and refreshed. Itou Gen beamed at the spectacle, and then... cried in agony as he crashed to the ground.

The not-that-fit magician rolled left and right, yelling in debilitating pain, eventually getting onto his stomach and then knees, and breathing heavily in hopes of ignoring his suffering. He managed to move himself a little forward, slowly, and then Marisa’s mini-Hakkero fell on his head and he fell down again with an, “Oh, ow!”

He turned onto his back and put his hand over where he’d been hit. Following that came the broom, which landed upside down on his injured shoulder. Squealing, he flipped back onto his stomach.

There Gen breathed out, scattering dirt and thinking, _I have to stop doing this_. While this wasn’t as bad for his body as his encounter with Kazami Yuuka, he was quite certain he’d at least sprained his arm.

The library’s apprentice, with an involuntary tear in his eye, managed to pick himself up again. He looked up at the Saigyou Ayakashi, now barren, and laughed. He hoped it would sleep forever. Holding his arm, he limped his way toward the front of the tree. As he came, a little ways away he saw Reimu and Marisa standing over a collapsed and beaten Saigyouji Yuyuko. The sky was speckled with pink blossoms on their way back home, and the air too had many drifting flower petals still. Next to him as he completely rounded the trunk, was Youmu, Roukanken plunged in the dirt, hands on the hilt, and her face again hidden. He shuffled toward the girl, and sat down beside her.

* * *

Anchor: K10

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/161903)

* * *

“Sorry, Mi... hm, Youmu,” he said. “We won.”

“This was the first thing... The first thing I had to do on my own since my Master went away.” Youmu spoke with her face still aimed at the ground. Her phantom half was slumped over her shoulders. “The first important thing, not just cleaning, or cooking, or... I put everything I had into it, for a year.”

She picked her head up, eyes faded and gazing on her Mistress. “And, look: I let Lady Yuyuko get hurt; I let four humans enter Hakugyokurou... and one kappa. And, the Saigyou Ayakashi—the tree...” she looked up over their heads, and he looked as well, “it didn’t even fully bloom.” She thrust the Roukanken further into the ground, her shoulders up and head down once more, while her jaw showed unmasked frustration.

He didn’t say anything.

She after a while relaxed and continued, “... Your friend is safe. When I lost to the maid, I brought Miss Aomu to the mansion... I don’t know where the maid went.”

“Huh...”

_Did she see that Reimu and Marisa were already succeeding and go back home?_

“I lost to the maid, and then to the witch. The only thing I thought I understood was this Roukanken and Hakurouken, and I couldn’t even wield them to victory when I really needed to.”

He looked at the shining blade in her hands, mixed feelings shown on his face.

“Master said many times that I didn’t understand. I was just so sure I did.” Youmu picked up her head, breathing slowly, worriedly through her nose. “I am really good for nothing,” she declared, her brow quivering. Gen watched as the young girl was brought to the verge of tears, and wasn’t sure what to say to her. He felt empty reassurance would only be mocking. So, he turned also to look out at the trio before them and said:

“You’re young,” and, “you’ll learn.”

[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_PVLX87ZUhU> ]  
[Ayakashi set 16 ～ Sakura, Sakura/さくらさくら - House set of "Perfect Cherry Blossom" (Kuroneko Lounge)]

“‘Young’...” the half-phantom repeated the word with importance, and stood up, leaving her sword before the sleeping tree. She began to walk toward her Mistress, while still talking to Gen, “I told you on the day that we met, that we half-phantoms live for hundreds of years, and that my Master would not be much longer.” She looked racked with pain as she walked, and he wondered if it was only in her sides and joints that she was aching. “I wanted to think... Master left as another lesson. I still want to think that.”

Youmu stopped in front of the Ghost Princess, who was not unconscious, and quickly picked herself up upon seeing her servant. Reimu looked on with her arms crossed, while Marisa had her arms behind her head. Saigyouji Yuyuko stood.

“Lady Yuyuko,” the gardener said, looking up at the woman she’d addressed, “Master... won’t ever come back, will he?”

The Princess shook her head. “Youki?” she said. “Not even for a drink or a snack, Youmu.”

“Then you only have this Konpaku... and Grandpa won’t come back.”

“Yes.”

“He won’t teach me anymore...?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me? Youmu.”

“I... G-Grandpa’s...”

The elegant woman then pet the child on her head. Once, twice, and then she hugged Youmu, who was shaking, to her breasts. “You’re so embarrassing, Youmu,” said Saigyouji Yuyuko, “we have guests, you know?”

But the girl only loudly cried, grasping at her skirt while her Mistress cradled her. Reimu looked away to the risen moon in the sky, while Marisa smirked at the sentimental display. Gen looked to the gate to the world of the living, and thought again about what his future might hold.

~~

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[[1]](https://www.pixiv.net/en/artworks/64307455)

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“Phewww~!”

From a cave that had been oddly smoking all day, that odd smoke coalesced, made arms, and stretched them.

“Oof, oof, _aaaahh_... Did that take all d—? Dwuh? What in Hell is this!?”

As it formed completely, it became a small girl with disproportionate horns who dropped, hands and feet, into the snow. She gazed incredulous at Gensokyo, and more than a little mad.

“It’s snow! In spring!? Oh maaaan, is it not...? Did I...? Aaagh, jeez, sake, sake...”

So she pulled a gourd of sake from her hip, uncorked it, and drank. And drank. She continued to drink for a minute and a half.

“Guh...” she grunted, putting the cork back in. “I’ve got to... talk t’ Yukari about this. Everyone said it was spring! I’m getting old!?”

The little girl roared with aggravation, pulling at her hair, but her yell soon became laughter as she fell to the ground on her back, “Gahahaha! Hahahaha! Gensokyo~! It’s been too long! And, ohya? What’s that I smell? Hey, that’s spring isn’t it? That means flower viewings, flower viewings~!”

The first oni to witness Gensokyo in hundreds of years picked herself up and marched through the spring snow, following cherry blossoms like stars in the sky. She made her way to an old friend, and while she went, gathered in her head grand plans for celebration.

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JRj1EfwRnQI> ]  
[東方萃夢想 - 緋萃のシンフォニック・スイート (Melodic Taste)]

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3308987)

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_With this arc’s completion, it’s time I posted a backstory short, posted at this time when I first wrote this part. The short,[ Histories of Yatsugatake](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822070) (that is a link), features Suika as its protagonist, and tells a story of a time when she was young._

_Until next time, see you later._

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[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/262279)

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter had quite the large edit in it, around a third of the way through. If you're curious, originally the sneaking journey to escape Genbu Ravine was almost fully written but here's the thing: it was rather boring. At the time it amused me to entertain the idea of an interactive sneaking session with Metal Gear theming, but it's really just not entertaining to read. You didn't really miss anything from it getting cut: just that Gen is in fact a fan of Metal Gear Solid.
> 
> Anyway, as always, final note: this story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day (or, honestly, however long it takes as some of these chapters are gargantuan) until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


	11. Hanami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the Spring Snow Incident, Gensokyo winds down, and so the first chapter of this apprentice's life in Gensokyo is solidly brought to conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been interactive for a few years.  
> Previously made choices are marked by [] for options and [X] for choice made.  
> ←Prev. Ch. _For use in Entire Work view_  
>  **Index.11**  
>  [A11].[B11].[C11].[D11].[E11].[F11].[G11].[H11]  
> [I11]
> 
> _Hit Back in your browser, Backspace on your keyboard, or the Back Button on your mouse (if it has one) to return to the index.  
>  Alternatively, click the Anchor to return to the index._
> 
> This story has links to music that you may listen to as you read along, if you'd like.  
> To vote on the latest updates, and see the original animated .gif or .webm files I post with this story, go to [https://www.touhou-project.com/](https://www.touhou-project.com/11) Be wary of **spoilers.**

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Anchor: A11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2162521)

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[ ♫: <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zAxfjkBpIq8> ]  
[桜花繚乱 – 花天月地 (Hachimitsu-Lemon)]

“For evil’s sake, stay still.”

“‘Evil’... don’t say that, Master.”

“Stay still!”

“Right... But, Master, I’d really like a shower, or to treat my wounds, or—”

With a word and a wave of a finger, Patchouli Knowledge summoned water above her apprentice’s head, and this water all fell over him. Soaked, he stood (still), miserable.

“There, a shower,” she said. “As for your wounds, they can wait. Aren’t you fascinated by this, Gen?”

“I mean I was there, and now I’m exhausted, Master,” he replied, sputtering through liquid.

“Enough. Show me enthusiasm,” his Master ordered, taking some charcoal in her hand and crawling below a fixture that he, Itou Gen, was keeping magically steady with his hands.

“Wow! Amazing! A miniature Netherworld! Awesooome!” he said.

“Yes, like that,” his Master replied, returning from under the structure. With her dirtied hands, she thoughtfully, carelessly touched her face and nodded at her work, satisfied. “It really is amazing, though,” she said. “Sakuya, well done.”

“Thank you, Lady Patchouli,” Sakuya answered with a smile and slight bow.

All three of them were in the depths of Scarlet Devil Mansion: the Library where he so often frequented. They all looked each a mess as well, though the master of the library was decidedly more kempt. Sakuya had, during the time he’d taken to stop the Saigyou Ayakashi, snuck around Hakugyokurou and stolen spirits, soil, and phantasmal cherry blossoms for an idea. It was an idea that so interested his Master that he hadn’t even yet been scolded by her for the events of the last twenty-four hours.

“You should be in better spirits,” Sakuya commented, coming to rest at a chair and coffee table, elbow on it and uncharacteristically relaxed, “I got this idea from your false sky of last year.”

“I really am honored, Miss Sakuya,” he said, and he meant that. He was currently holding steady with what little energy he had left an artificial barrier to contain the space his Master worked on. Master Patchouli had managed to scale down the spirits and bind them to her creation (a model under a glass dome), while molding false trees and blossoms from the gathered soil. Looking on this admittedly beautiful recreation, he reminded himself that those spirits had been at Hakugyokurou to await the next life or world, and that perhaps his Master’s swear to evil had not been off the mark. With muddled feelings, he closed his eyes and wiggled his brows.

“But, to think under those cherry blossoms are—” his Master began to talk with wheezing excitement. He cut her off.

“Don’t say it, Master!”

“—bodies. I wonder if that’s how the Netherworld’s blossoms produce such beauty.” She seemed to not hear him.

He deeply wanted to palm his face, but he had to remain, of course, still. While groaning in melancholy at that queer, dark fact of the Netherworld, he looked over to his fellow human who was at rest. _Very_ at rest, now, it seemed: she was sleeping.

 _It really has been exhausting_ , he thought to himself while watching the maid, slumped over the table, breathe peacefully, her back rising and falling slowly. _I really could use a rest tooooo... But, I deserve at least this much “punishment”. Definitely more._

Frowning, he continued to watch his Master eagerly work. He didn’t like to think about what the hour of night might be.

“Geeeen...”

His ears perked up, though he did not turn around to see where this small voice had come from.

“What is it, Merremia?” he answered. “You can be awake at night?” he asked.

“Geeen... go to bed so I can wake you up...” she moaned. He looked over his shoulder now to see his morning fairy walking toward him and rubbing her right eye with a balled fist, clearly on the verge of sleep.

“You first,” he said. “Though I won’t wake you up.”

He turned away from her to keep focus on the small Netherworld. She flew onto his back, and crawled to cross her arms on his head. Eyes closed, and mouth showing his misery, he ordered, “Off me, fairy!”

“Guu... hmmm... Nng...” was the reply he received.

 _She’s asleep!?_ he thought, eyes wild.

“Stay still! The barrier is wavering!” shouted his Master from beneath the fixture again.

“Merremia’s crawled on me, Master,” he explained.

“Merremia? Is that your fairy?” she asked, poking her head out from under her work to have a look and confirm. “Ah, it is,” she said, and while she went back to her efforts gave a yell of, “Hey fairy maids, listen: Gen is being a bed now!”

His feelings sank at her words. From a few places around the library, other maids descended or flew to him, and piled on his back and legs—two hanging from his arms. He was ultimately weighed by six of the tykes, and finding it very hard to remain focused as their initial joy of finding a human to bother waned in favor of tiredness, for each, and they began to use him as his Master had directed.

“Stay still!” Patchouli yelled.

“Yes, Master...” he answered, buckling under tiny weight and very much warmth. His body sincerely aching, and his right shoulder begging him for ice or anything other than fairies, he stayed like that through the night, helping his Master in her work even as he was ordered to move, the maids never letting go.

~~

His Master had a little mercy.

Hours before sunrise, her work was done, and she’d allowed him to go bathe, as well as have his injuries and wounds treated. After getting clean, she fit his right arm in a sling and, looking at this, shook her head at him in disappointment, saying: “This isn’t how Magicians should be.”

He had replied, “Things happen.”

And she had told him, “They shouldn’t, if you’re any good at magic.”

She was perhaps right. Who ever played an RPG with a mage in the front lines? He admittedly loved a risky, but successful move in a life-or-death battle, much as it was foolish to prefer, but he deeply considered working to keep himself at range for future endeavors.

He went to sleep after that, finding Merremia in his bed, and now actually appreciating her hugging through what little night was left (at that point, his ability to sleep was seeming to disappear). When morning came – though he had said this would not be the case – he was the one who had to wake her. This said, once she knew the Sun must be high in the air, she woke infinitely faster than he ever could.

So the new day dawned, just after the ending of the Stolen Spring Incident. There Merremia informed him of the day’s duties and possibilities.

“The Shrine Maiden invited the Mistresses and Lady Sakuya to a flower viewing this afternoon and tonight! We got the invitation last night! Lady Patchouli was invited too but I bet she won’t go!”

“I see,” he said, unbuttoning his sleepwear shirt.

“You’re invited too, even though you started the Incident Sir Gen!”

“I didn’t start the Incident.”

“What’re you saying you big dumb? Dumb idiot dumby,” the fairy looked incredulous, shaking her head. “Everyone said you did, so that’s that.”

“Right, that’s how truth works,” he answered, yawning.

“Yeah, it’s true,” she answered with a thoughtful nod. She moved on, detecting no sarcasm, “Anyway, you don’t have to do anything today, Sir Gen. I think you should relax!”

“I also think that.”

“Did you have anything you wanted to do today?” she asked, curious.

While putting on his repaired and refreshed clothing and refitting his sling for his sprained arm, he told her, “Well, I did want to have a spell card duel with Miss Meiling at some point today. My arm isn’t in the best condition, but I can still have a friendly bout with her.” With everything on, he rubbed at his chin and explained, “I promised her almost a year ago that when I could fly, we’d have a sparring match, but that’s gotten away from me.”

“Awesome. Can we watch?” Merremia asked, mimicking his thoughtful hand-to-chin pose.

“If it doesn’t make Miss Sakuya angry. I think today’s a good day for this sort of thing. I imagined once the Incident was resolved, all of Gensokyo would relax from having been on edge so perhaps, for instance, Miss Meiling might not have to worry, and the Mistress might be more forgiving for a flight of the guard’s fancy.”

“Spring’s back!” the fairy cried, and he smiled. She fired light from her fingers and cheered happily, fluttering in place. When she was done celebrating, she put a hand beside her mouth as if to tell him a secret, saying, “But, I think winter mornings are just as good as summer or spring ones, or fall.”

He nodded. She grinned.

“Other than that,” he continued, “I don’t really know what I’ll do today.” He yawned greatly, and scratched at his head. “Perhaps I’ll study? Talk with someone?”

“Whatever you want, Sir Gen!” the fairy maid said, and she patted him on his head twice. With this part of the morning routine finished, she blasted wind into his face with a playful shout, fell to the floor laughing, and tripped backward as she went out the door. He fixed the fringe of his hair, and thought on what to do.

[] Go study alone.

[] Go study with Master.

[] See Mistress Flandre.

[] Find Miss Sakuya.

<>

[X] Find Miss Sakuya.

~~

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Anchor: B11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/3138979)

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Due to its “lateness”, this year’s spring surely wouldn’t last long, and surely most everyone in Gensokyo would want to bask in it as much as was possible for them. Thus, he imagined he could find Scarlet Devil Mansion’s head maid in its gardens that morning instead of its halls, and it was there that he did.

Gen walked out the front doors of the mansion and winced at the bright light of the Sun. He stayed under it for a moment – let wind blow through his clothes, let the light warm his skin – and after his eyes adjusted looked out to see Sakuya tending to the Mistress’s flowers, cleaning the stone pathways, and sometimes taking a moment to just stand alone and respire. She looked to be in a good mood, and he wondered if his presence might ruin that.

But, he walked forward regardless.

“Miss Sakuya,” he called, “good morning. Can I help at all?”

And he had been right; the maid’s expression soured as soon as his voice fell on her ears.

“Gen...” she said as he made his pace slow, reluctant, and awkward, “I have to say, I feel you had luck last night. When I woke this morning I thought, ‘ _How_ many things do I want to hear from him?’”

He stopped, and looked to flower petals swirling in the sky. Having an answer, he turned his head to her and announced, “You look very good today, despite yesterday.”

“And Gen, why might it _be_ that yesterday would make me bad in some way today?”

He rubbed his chin, “Well you did go off to resolve the Incident.”

“What happened on my way?”

“You did find me,” he answered, planting his unslung hand on his hip.

“Ohh, Gen...” the girl sighed, shaking her head and touching around her left eye with all five of her fingers. She sat before a bush of camellias, brought a knife into her hand, and began to carefully cut it into a pleasant shape. “We hardly talk, yet you somehow seem to have somewhat taken after me in your time here.”

“How so?” he asked, knowing what she meant.

“You know,” she replied, and she glanced at him, “and that’s why you know I won’t tell you, isn’t it?”

“You didn’t tell me whether or not I could help,” he reminded her.

“You can talk to me,” she said, slicing off a maverick branch. “I do feel like talking to you.”

“Alright. Then I shall wistfully admire the Mistress’s gardens while we chat,” he replied, and began, thoughtfully, to do just that.

“Feel free.”

He bent before another bush of the same flowers she had chosen, with his back to hers, and he examined them with an inquisitive touch. Eventually, he evenly declared to the young lady, “I should apologize to you, Miss Sakuya.”

“What for?”

“For lying to you.”

“And?”

“Not helping you.”

“And?”

“Attacking you.”

“And?”

“Consorting with youkai.”

“And?”

“Being at least somewhat responsible for the Incident.”

“And?”

“Not finishing our rematch.”

“And?”

“Hurting you fairly badly regardless.”

“And?”

“I’m pretty sure that I grabbed your breast.”

“You did,” she answered, turning to him. He felt her eyes and turned as well. “So?”

And he innocently sounded a “Hm?”

“Where is this apology you should deliver?”

“Hmm...” he sounded, now pensively. He faced away from her, put his elbow in his slung arm’s palm, and as was usual for him held his chin in thought. Sakuya looked at him with a pout that showed disappointment in spite of meeting expectation. However shortly her ear perked up and she squinted as the boy faced her again with a smile, cheerfully saying, “Tada!” as he revealed in his left hand a bouquet of almost countless flowers, blossoming then and there as he moved away his bound right hand to give them room to grow.

“A bit hard to support with just my left,” he said.

“What on—...” the girl uttered, glancing to her sides and seeing that all the flowers there were accounted for. She was, unexpectedly, surprised.

“I don’t know the language of flowers,” said the magician, looking over his bundle of nature, “but while in the garden, and with this concentration of spring, it doesn’t take much to craft more than a few. Still, these are some of the nicest I think I could come up with, and I’d like you to have them as a gesture of sincerity in my saying this:” he presented her with the bouquet and proclaimed, “I am quite the awful human being, and I apologize for being so. Miss Sakuya, I am sorry for my actions of the past day.”

She fully faced him now and examined his work. The bushel was a collage of pink, blue, purple, red, white, yellow, indigo, green, and mauve, crowded with peony, puschkinia, lilac, camellia, snowball, beautybush, forsythia, daffodil, winter aconite, tulip, crocus, bridalwreath spirea, and rhododendron. It was fragrant, gorgeous and very comely life. She found herself admiring it, blooming with such vigor that if she were to reach for it she could hardly hold the bouquet in both her arms; but she held her hand back from her want to touch it. In her brow, he saw that she was conflicted.

He continued to talk, “Naturally they will not expire – Master wouldn’t have me learning any faulty, street-artist magic like that – but there is a catch.” She looked up at him then, quizzically, and he explained, “For every time I betray you, or this mansion, one of these flowers will wilt.”

There was quiet between them then, aside from the sound of joyous birds and fair folk caring not for the moment. Sakuya did not know what to say. He spoke again. “I wanted to make a promise,” he continued, turning up his right palm to show a new stem of forsythia grasped within it, “and that is this: I promise, as a fellow of this Mansion, that I won’t play its enemy again. Not unless we agree on it,” he finished with a smirk, and then spoke a different spell which made a gust rush forward over her, pick up her headpiece, and drop it on the bushes at her back. Immediately, the sun-colored flowers in his hand lost their color and fell away. “Or, of course, I just decide to break that promise.”

He put the dead stem down and gave her his gift. She received it in a modest fashion and, eventually, found her lips turning up in spite of herself. The two servants stood, she with a lot of flowers, he with empty hands, one of which was now in his robe’s left pocket.

“... I have some things to say before I put these in my room,” Sakuya finally spoke, largely hiding her face. “The first is that your last action that required apology...”

“My last?” he repeated.

“Your last,” she confirmed. She brought down her eyelids halfway as she told him, “It was extremely bad of you.”

 _Ah,_ he thought, _her breast._

“For that transgression,” she said, “you will have to listen to me and complete any of my requests for the next four months, whatever they are, and at once.”

“My,” he commented.

“I would ask if this is agreeable, but you don’t have any right to disagree do you?”

“Correct,” he answered with a nod.

“Next, I’d like you to have...” she followed, pulling from the magical flora a single white tulip and presenting it to him, “... this. And, I would like to know if and when it withers.”

He removed his hand from his coat and took it, rolling it by its stem between his fingers. He examined it closely, but saw that she had not changed its make at all, and was thus soundly confused. He soon relinquished any attempt at understanding, slipped the flower into his vest’s pocket, and nodded.

“I also wanted to say,” she continued, “that I worry about your actions in combat, Gen.”

“Oh?”

Sakuya leaned somewhat aside and began to chide him, “Aren’t you too in love with risks? Does a knife-user like myself have to teach a magician how to stay at range?”

He made a face.

“Oh? ... Really, I wonder if the Mistress just attracts the rash and foolhardy...” the maid mumbled, casually including herself with a sigh. “You have forgotten my advice, Gen.”

“I haven’t,” he denied, now serious, “I remember what I am.”

“Then, for my last word, I urge you: take that advice seriously, and stop your stubborn courting of death. With your eagerness, it won’t be long now that she will consider accepting your proposals.” She looked at him coldly then, before gently closing her eyes and breathing in the flowers’ scents. She gazed upon them once more, and turned to re-enter the mansion, saying, “If not that, I swear: one day you’ll come back here and you won’t even have an arm to be put in a sling or cast...”

She vanished then, and he felt he’d heard a “thank you”... but was not convinced. He thought to himself for a moment, looking nowhere in particular, and flinched with a jolt of fear as something flew past his face.

“Wh-What!?” he stuttered, glancing behind himself to where he’d heard a sharpened _thud_. There, perfectly between cobblestones, was one of Sakuya’s knives stabbed into the earth, and through a slip of paper. After a moment’s hesitance, he bent low and freed the dagger to read her note—laying it down and taking the sheet from the blade.

 _Gather the things on the ground to burn._ It said.

He looked around himself, and at the twigs and leaves and bits of wood here and there.

“... Huh,” he uttered.

And, he got to work.

~~

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Anchor: C11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1733332).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1034380)

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“Once more!? You can’t be serious, Sir Gen!”

“I just did what I had to.”

“ _Had to_!? Sir Gen...”

His youkai colleague pinched her nose bridge, and after a second laughed through the nose. “I keep thinking you’re gonna get killed out there, but, to think the highest possibility is like this...” she whispered. “Does a rough-and-tumble youkai like me have to teach Lady Patchouli’s human apprentice manners?”

“I believe I have very good manners,” he replied.

She sighed next, but his strike to her humor was clear. Hong Meiling was snickering, and hiding her smile behind a fist. However, she soon gave a shake of her head and steadied herself. Becoming stern, she crossed her arms, hardened her eyes, and declared, “Sir Gen, you don’t just grab a woman’s breast!”

Gen, who was seated on one of the mansion’s outer walls, pondered this statement while a small crowd of fairy maids hovered behind him, mirroring his thinking posture. After a moment, he determined: “Hm, but if the opportunity affords it...”

Meiling deeply frowned, but the corners of her mouth were tugging upward.

Now late morning, the apprentice and now-servant had done his chore, and after putting his gifted tulip in a borrowed vase at his bedside had come to the front gate for a spar with the guard Hong Meiling. She had already chastised him for getting injured on his last excursion, explaining that she wasn’t teaching him tai chi for him to get physical – it was for him to get _away_. Now she was chastising him for his ungentlemanly hands.

“Twice you’ve done this, Sir Gen.”

“Gen’s depraved,” one of the maids commented. He looked at this girl and gave her a half-frown.

“Miss Sakuya, Kazami Yuuka... Wait, no, thrice—didn’t you grab F—!?”

The Magician’s apprentice flew fast to the Gatekeeper of the Devil and put his left hand over her mouth. As the dust from his move settled, he told her in a hushed tone, “Not before the fairy maids, Miss Meiling.”

She glanced at the curious children, nodded once with a wink, and he let go as she put one thumb up.

“Fight already!” came a call from behind. They both stared at the fairies for a moment, seeing them growing agitated, and then looked back at one another to shrug.

“Okay, how about this?” Meiling proposed as she walked toward the gate, Gen turning to watch her. “I will punish you justly for your rude touching. What _I_ think is that you need to get brought back down to earth a bit. Maybe flying’s given you too much freedom.”

“I’ll admit I don’t fully see the problem with it,” he answered, looking off to nowhere, “I’ve never really _groped_ a lady after all, I’ve merely had my palms on uncompromising places.”

[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=SakwghofYNc> ]  
[上海紅茶館 ～ Chinese Tea - 東方志奏 9th Spell, Cardinal Red (xi-on)]

“That guiltlessness...” the Chinese girl began to rise into the air while speaking, putting her hands together and entering a stance of concentration, “is a bad habit! Prepare yourself, Sir Gen; I’ll wipe it out of you!” To the cheers of onlooking maids, she threw a palm forward and fell now into a stance of battle, launching a barrage of qi without declaration. The Sun was at her back, rendering her a notably dark shadow against it that was only made discernable in shape by the prismatic aura lining her body. Gen found himself so pleased with the sight – it being so fantastical and strange – that he involuntarily began to grin before slipping out the way of her attack with zeal.

Although the first time he’d seen Meiling fight was against a ship-killing sea monster, since then he’d seen her more often employing patterns and attacks like she did now: pinwheels, flower motifs, and bursts of power. Presently she was spinning shards of red and blue qi in his direction as some kind of warmup, and he was firing back with bolts of flame.

Among the spectators, all were in support of the gatekeeper, booing her enemy’s every avoidance of a wave and movement through gaps. To rile them further, he scattered fire deliberately beyond Meiling and toward them all. They shrank away quickly save for one of them, who caught a round of flame and bounced it between her palms giddily. He scowled at her, and mixed in shots of water. That got her hiding.

When he’d worn Meiling down enough to change into a pure offense, the guard came to notice his evil as a fairy yelped out and went to duck behind the walls. She realized what he’d done, and glared at him with a look that cried for justice. Puffing up her chest, she shouted, “Itou Gen! Your villainy has gone on long enough!” She withdrew a card from a pocket in her dress and made to declare her first spell. “You stepped through my work earlier, didn’t you? Were the gardens to your liking? If so, then how’s this!? Flower Sign: ‘Selaginella Nine!’!”

Indeed, the guard’s flower motif patterns were not only a sign of preference. Although Sakuya had been maintaining them earlier, this was only an act of temporary fancy; the gardens of Scarlet Devil Mansion were the responsibility of its gatekeeper. When he’d learned the fact that Youmu fulfilled this same role, he’d wanted to ask Meiling, “Guards doing gardening: what’s that about?”, but he had been keeping his correspondence with the half-phantom secret. Maybe he’d ask her now...

At any rate, the Chinese girl certainly loved pretty things. The fact contrasted harshly with his knowledge of her brutality in unrestricted combat as well as her taste for human flesh but, in spite of this, he did find his tai chi master rather adorable conceptually. Her first spell was, as he expected, _nothing much_. This too was cute of her. _Unlike Master,_ he thought, _Miss Meiling can’t understand danmaku._

Selaginella Nine fluctuated to start, as a flower with petals swayed by wind, and then cast its “pollen” toward him in expanding circles that crossed one another. Avoiding the bulk of it was a simple matter of hardly moving left or right. He captured it not long after it had begun. In response, Meiling clenched her fist, and growled. He looked at her and shrugged.

“Miss Reimu is right:” he announced, “danmaku isn’t your strong suit at all, Miss Meiling.” For his granted round he began a pattern of rampant water and sunlight, and while she dodged it the Gatekeeper of the Devil fumed with irritation.

“Yeah, yeah, is that right...” she muttered, eyes closed and still dodging. That irritated _him_. “You got the Shrine Maiden to evaluate you a few months ago, right? How’d she rate _you_ , Sir Gen?”

“Nicely, in fact, when it came to fighting under the spell card rules,” he answered, and Meiling huffed with dissatisfaction at it. He could imagine what she wanted to hear. “I should say her favorable rating was heaped with asterisks. As in, ‘you’re good for your level, but your good and your level are both awful’.”

Now the guard was pleased, smugly smiling to herself as she dodged more of his bullets. She threw a punch after a moment, and a spread of her qi fired from it as if her arm was a shotgun. Importantly, she had done this after suddenly getting right into his face. Expecting nothing like this, he received all of it, and cursed as his round was forced to end.

 _How is that_ power _any kind of fair!?_ he whined in his thoughts, wincing to the wave of pain rolling over the front of his body.

“Next card,” said Meiling. He winced at her, now, fishing just that out of his sleeve while she asked another question: “You fought the Shrine Maiden twice, yes? Another bout was without the rules; and how did that go?”

“She said I was too evil,” he replied, holding his spell card between two fingers, “too much like a youkai.” He declared it: “Water and Sun Sign: ‘Water Park’.”

Uncorked bottles on his belt bubbled and boiled over their brims, and his card shined brightly before bursting into cool droplets. Meiling backed away with caution, but no visible surprise. His spell was one crafted with the idea of “refreshing”. For now, the air before the mansion gate began to heat up.

“Eeehh? What the heck? It’s so hot...!” the guard complained, waving her hand before her face. Gen scrutinized her curiously.

 _Eeehh... isn’t that reaction too much?_ he thought, water flying mad around himself and the sky, spreading thoroughly as it swirled and splashed and wildly shot out. _This spell mimics summer, but not_ that _well. Guess the overlong winter really got to her._

“If you aren’t liking this heat,” he answered, “please, run into my water.”

Some of the fairies booed. Others looked like they wanted to take up his offer.

“Water Park” sent out an endless sun shower. While bullets and streams of summoned water shot forward seemingly randomly, it was fully a pattern in fact. Really, that much one could tell by simply waiting and watching the display, which was repetitive and regular. Furthermore soon said display mimicked fountains, spouts, and of course the attractions after which it was named to boot. He and his Master both believed it: this spell card was rather gorgeous, and rather despicable. Coupled with the persistent heat, the arcs and sprays and timed cannons of moisture could compel the opponent to dive headlong into the fray. In this case the onlookers did instead.

A girlish cacophony resounded as fairies suddenly soared over the wall and in-between the opponents at play, aiming to deliberately run into the apprentice’s waves. They gladly started a water battle, the one fire fairy among them taking this fight within Gen and Meiling’s fight very, very seriously. With a smirk of pleasure, he watched the childish madness unfold before him, Meiling having to aim around the maids in order to hit him. With a smirk of arrogance, he imagined she, too, genuinely felt like indulging in his patterns. Temptation, after all, _was_ clear on her face.

Nonetheless, the woman persevered. With determination, a little time, and a visible amount of sweat, she had his card captured, and upon seeing that he had the feeling that at their respective levels of spell card play this match would not have a particularly spectacular end. Of course, it was at this moment of acknowledgement that she flew forward to him again, bringing with her a kick that cracked the air as it was delivered. The atmosphere visibly shimmered, crimson light pulsed, and for a moment he was terrified.

With shock racing through his blood he backed away and immediately dropped down, for her foot carried a surprise on top of its surprising entrance. The fairy maids (still floating about their space of play) looked on in awe, making noises of amazement as another kind of shower erupted off the toe of guardsman’s footwear: that of a rainbow of qi bullets.

The boy made noises too; a grunt of frustration and then a yelp of fear. Even though he had only narrowly avoided the girl’s opening charge, Meiling held for him no mercy and swiftly brought out another with little time for him to rest. As he dodged, he saw that a blowback of wider-spread, but thinner in density rainbow shots were going off behind her as well.

 _C-Cool..._ he thought involuntarily as he backed out the way and saw how her bullets fell.

“Cool!” said Merremia with much enthusiasm, which caused him to reflexively shut one eye. He looked left. His morning fairy was now hanging off his shoulder.

“Away, Merremia!” he growled. She stared into his eyes, and poked his cheek.

Meiling returned to his front, and he grabbed at the straps on the back of the fairy maid’s apron to pull her off his body. He them pulled himself out the way of another rain of physical power, carrying the fairy like one might carry books by a strap. While keeping as much distance as he was able (and for however long), he observed his opponent in all seriousness.

 _That’s..._ he began to note without certainty, _no, definitely, that’s a hexagram-based glyph!_ The apprentice spotted it: every time the guard delivered a kick, she supplemented it with some sort of red-star magic. The boy then whispered darkly, drawing light from the sky and from his fairy’s wings (eliciting a “hey!”). Now wielding beams of sunlight, he snapped at the gatekeeper, “Magic! You’re using magic!”

“Just,” she answered, striking at him again and making him flee, “a little!”

“Annoying... That’s annoying, Miss Meiling,” he grumbled. “You were so emphatic when I claimed you used it before.”

“Eh, did you? Was I?” she earnestly wondered aloud. Now he began to glower, and she continued to pursue.

He dragged the fairy maid up and out the way of Meiling’s spread, and the little one cheered with glee as he did so. He squinted at her for a good while, having finally entered a rhythm of surviving and attacking for this irritating round. He peppered Meiling with his own magic, and soon enough made her pull another card that, as he saw it, had him confirm a fact to himself: Hong Meiling really was much too straightforward for danmaku play.

“... You’re looking smug again,” Meiling said with a tone and a grimace.

“Heh, that’s just because...” he started, bringing Merremia under his arm and carrying her around her sides, “I’m going to win.” He beamed happily.

And he did.

[ ♫: <https://files.catbox.moe/4ho87p.mp3> ]  
[ 魔法の森 ～人形遣いは怒った！～ - 大正義幻想郷動的音画大系 (LION HEART)]

After a disappointing match, Gen was now squatted before a fallen Meiling who was dressed in ruined clothing. One fairy was seated on her back and braiding her hair, another was standing on the youkai’s rear and posing with triumph, fists on her hips. As for Gen, the morning fairy Merremia was sitting on his shoulders now.

“You’re lucky Master and Miss Sakuya are better at danmaku than you, Miss Meiling,” he said with a look of sympathy, “because you really suck under the Shrine Maiden’s rules.”

“Go away,” she replied.

With his good arm, he patted her on the open part of her back (clear of fairy butt and also, as a result of their battle, any form of cloth material), “Do you want me to teach you how to create better patterns?”

Meiling lowered her chin to bury her face further into the dirt, answering, “Shut up!”

“Come on,” he shook her, “it’ll be a repayment for teaching me tai chi.”

“Leave me alone, already!”

“Ahh, Meiling...” he drummed his fingers on her body, shaking his head, “we all have things to work on.”

“Just before you become a youkai,” she said, “make sure you fight me one more time, without the Shrine Maiden’s rules.”

He pinched her.

“O-Ow!” she cried with a spasm.

“I won’t become a youkai,” he said.

“Yeah you will,” said Merremia.

“He will,” said one of the fairies flying around.

“Yep,” said the one braiding Meiling’s hair.

“Definitely,” said the one standing on her.

“You all provoke a human’s rage...” he spoke, his eyes losing color. “Shall I show you why monsters fear us!?”

With a playful roar he stood, a tome now in hand and a spell on his tongue. The fairies screamed, mostly with laughter, and flew off as he sent all the elements spiraling up to the skies before the gate. Meiling observed his antics with a hand on her cheek and a pout, but soon huffed with a laugh herself. And, from a balcony on the mansion’s southern face, the master of the house observed the magical display serenely, lightly twirling the bar of a parasol in her hands.

========

_There was still time until the later party._

_He..._

[] Went to do research with his Master.

[] Went to the library to study.

[] Went to chat with Wakasagihime.

[] Went to find Mistress Flandre.

<>

[X] Went to chat with Wakasagihime.

~~

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Anchor: D11

  
[[1]](https://gelbooru.com/index.php?page=post&s=view&id=1955622).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2381273)

* * *

After playing a while, he returned to the mansion to help Meiling recover, then wandered the halls for a time in thought. He wondered again if he was becoming strange within these walls and with these nonhumans surrounding him. The year before, the dark halls of Scarlet Devil Mansion – haunted with light laughter and whispers behind corners – put him on edge enough for more than a few sleepless nights. However as he focused further on the lessons his Master taught him he focused less on the queer existence that was Scarlet Devil Mansion: a home decorated and suited for the vampiric undead. Now, he even oft felt at ease in this hardly candlelit, red-colored place... Making notice of this now, when joking was all done the thought of a transformation for him being inevitable was more likely than he’d care to admit. Much more likely.

He stopped walking and lifted both his hands (slipping out of his right sling) to push his fingers under his hat and feel his hair. His brow furrowed somewhat from the pain that came from his shoulder, but primarily it furrowed out of frustration. He winced and thought, _Gods, I’m moronic._ His self-evaluation was thus: pathetic. Childish inner turmoil was boiling in him again.

He pulled his hands free. He rubbed his shoulder and looked at the place near his feet where the floor met with the wall, and he sighed miserably.

He needed to see Wakasagihime.

It should be said it was a terrible idea to see Wakasagihime. It was now noontime according to the clocks he could find in the mansion, which meant Misty Lake would be rapidly taking to its name. Which meant worse creatures would be lurking it. Which meant he would be consciously putting himself at mortal risk.

He always skirted but never stepped on Youkai Mountain. He had only visited the Road of Reconsideration when it wouldn’t be very terrible. He tried not to be out _anywhere_ at night. And the Lake... he was sure to not pass through or by it at noon, having only spent time there during the hour once, and stationary, while in the company of powerful friends.

But his Master had been right when she’d accepted him as her apprentice: Itou Gen was definitely selfish. What he wanted— _truly_ wanted, he would stubbornly, certainly have. He made up his mind, left the mansion, and departed for the Lake.

Gensokyo was a place where the unexplained thrived and remained without even a hint or theory as to the causes behind them. Like this, since and before historic record the phenomenon of the Lake’s midday mists had remained so: an unknowable phenomenon. Above the lake, white wisps enveloped it too thoroughly: it was near opaque. Gen walked into it from the mansion gate, and on his shoulders and mind wariness immediately began to set in.

The fog of Misty Lake made him feel not only uneasy, but unwell. He was not sure if it was something infused with a kind of supernatural energy, or if the atmosphere was simply and frankly too strange. This was the trouble: not knowing, and being unable to even guess as to why. At noon, this place began to prod the most basic of a human’s fears, so it was not a wonder to him that the hairs behind his neck were prickling in the presence of what had to be several unseen monsters, so hungry that he thought he might soon hear their stomachs growl. In a way, this was like he’d first felt within Scarlet Devil Mansion: traveling alone through an alien place. And though he knew the Mansion for its close walls and heavy darkness, the bright and open Lake area at this time was no less genuinely frightening. He was certain he would be attacked, and his palpitations—his damnably loud, interminable palpitations reflected that.

He couldn’t make his way in any recognizable direction. He stepped slowly and carefully, with his left hand on the stopper of one of his vials. He could just barely see his feet in front of himself... the atmosphere had gotten so thick that if he held his arm out he couldn’t see his hand before his face. It didn’t feel like spring here, despite his yesterday efforts, and that made him remarkably irritated. Here, it only felt unnerving, eerie, confounding, and dangerous.

With these conditions he reasoned he would not be able to find a safe place to lower himself and use the Mermaid’s Flute Wakasagihime had given him, not without leaving his back even more open than it already was. He listened instead, hoping that despite the fog Wakasagihime would be making the most of the returned spring she could by singing above the water’s surface, even now (with her the likelihood was high). He listened for her voice, and did not hear the bullet racing for the back of his head.

It struck him, and with surprise the cold shot smarted terribly.

... Cold?

 _Some remnant of winter?_ he guessed. _Or..._

But the train of thought ended soon as he had stumbled forward from the blow and stepped on too-smooth ground: ice, in fact. He slipped, was toppled, and fell, evidently into the lake. Splashing about and reorienting himself quickly, he surfaced and moved to where he thought was the shore. He placed his hand on grass, much to his relief, at which point a shoeless (but not sockless) foot stepped onto it, toes wiggling. The foot was the size of a child’s. He saw this, and his expression went entirely sour as a single word rose within his mind:

_Fairy..._

“Human under my foot!” shouted a young and boisterous voice. “Are you _stupid?_ ”

“Often I think so,” he admitted, “like now.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely stupid, walking into the territory of _the Master of the Lake_ at noon!” announced the voice.

“‘Master of the Lake’...?” he repeated. “I seem to recall the Lake’s Master was a kind of fish, not a fairy.”

He looked up, seeing white bloomers and a pair of hands on a pair of blue-dressed, narrow hips. _Ah..._ he thought to himself in realization, _it’s this one._

“That tiny fish is nothing if I freeze it! _I’m_ the real boss around here!” she boasted, “And I think you’re the other magician from that house on _my_ shore! That means...” the fairy bent down so he could see her face and cerulean eyes as she declared, “you’re one of the guys who stole winter!”

He let out a chuckle and had his eyes fall back on her wiggling toes. “That’s inaccurate, O Master of the Lake. Winter stole spring, and we took it back.”

She gripped her toes in, shouting, “You confessed!” He squinted, as suddenly the air seemed to be glittering. He raised his head to gaze once more upon the face of the ice fairy Cirno: the cold and blue troublemaker of Misty Lake. Presently, the fairy had a hand over her head and was summoning a sizable volley of danmaku. She was confident, arrogant, and small.

He had not met this fairy before, but knew of her from his Master’s warnings (and that his Master had on one occasion snatched and kept one of the fairy’s strange, floating, crystal-ice wings). Contrary to most of her kind, this fairy was surprisingly full of herself (insofar as she tended to lack a sense of danger), as she steadfastly believed in a great strength she did not possess. Miss Sakuya in particular cited this one as a frequent nuisance on walks with the Mistress Remilia, or while on errands.

But, despite an initial well of negative emotions to having been assaulted, Gen found himself chuckling again, and then openly laughing. The ice fairy’s power let him see the pattern shining over her head quite clearly, and she entirely reminded him of himself from the year prior. That naive pattern; the carriage of an egoist... He thought to himself, _This fairy is actually very cute_ , before calling for a curtain of flames that flooded over the area.

She squealed.

“Eek! What the heck!?” the fairy shouted, flailing backward and disrupting her magic. Tears were in her eyes as she fell onto her rear and out of his range of visibility. He recalled his flames, and just like that they rushed near him to dry his hair and face. Compressing them with his words, they became a small “sun”, which he directed to be kept floating over his shoulder.

Gen pulled himself entirely from the water and stood dripping wet. He stepped toward where Cirno must have been and soon spotted her legs. “So,” he said, “what to do with you?” The trembling Cirno said nothing, though he suspected she was thinking “please forgive me” from her closed-tight eyes and wary posture.

He...

[] decided to punish her.

[] left her alone with a warning.

[] struck up a conversation.

<>

[X] struck up a conversation.

* * *

Anchor: E11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2679471).[[2]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2527398)

* * *

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=aJkhr1bhJqk> ]  
[遥か、遠く、君へ – Cosmic Armonica (Halozy)]

“Hey, how do you usually get through this fog anyway?” he asked her.

Still shaking, she only managed a breaking “H-Huh...?” for an answer.

“You mentioned the house by the lake, so I’m sure you’ve seen its clock tower,” he said, calling to attention the mansion they could no longer see. His Mistress had built it with a large clock facing outward that he occasionally used to keep track of the time when near, but not within his second home. “If you’ve seen that, then you’ve probably noticed that when both its hands point up—” and he lifted his finger for emphasis “—the mists of this lake set in.”

“Y-Yeah...”

“And like that clock always strikes twelve, the fog always sets in. Every day, at this time. How do you make your way through it?”

“O-Of course, I do what I do with everything...” she said, as her tension seemed to ebb and her shoulders began to lower. She sat on her calves and pumped her fists, declaring, “I freeze it!”

“‘Freeze it’? Right, ice fairy...”

“Cirno!” said Cirno.

“Cirno.”

Cirno continued, “I can make a path through the fog, or I can make it sparkle in spots, and I feel out where I can go.” She crossed her arms and with confidence told the boy, “There’s nothing to it!”

“Hmm, really...?” he muttered, looking around himself. He finally noticed that in some spots of the atmosphere the smoke of the lake seemed denser, and when he put his fingers through it it felt very cold; ice crystals even began forming on his hand. Casting his eyes elsewhere, he could see more glinting formations clearly showing where movement was possible. Seeing as the ice couldn’t form everywhere, where it didn’t form meant somebody or thing was there—even he could, upon application of scrutiny, make out what youkai were watching him and this fairy—probably waiting to see a human back unguarded again. For Cirno, coupled with her knowing of the lake area, during the midday hour this ability likely gave her the kind of expert tracking of a seasoned hunter. He brought his hand near to his face to see the mist frozen on it, and gave his honest evaluation: “Amazing...”

“Right? Praise me!” the fairy called.

He looked at her and said, “You’re amazing, Miss Cirno.”

“More!!”

Again he examined the air of Misty Lake and said, “I’d never imagine a fairy to be capable of this.”

“Mhm, mhm!”

“Really, it’s a kind of good thought and sense that leaves me envious.”

“Heh... Heheh.”

“Honestly, it’s no wonder you’re famous.”

“R-Right...”

He let his eyes fall on her again. Even through the so-obfuscating fog he could see that her face had become entirely scarlet. As for his, it gained a catlike smile. He extinguished his ball of flames and spoke quickly another spell.

“Miss Cirno,” he said, now kneeling before her, “I’d like you to have this. I know enough about the language of flowers to mean this, and sincerely.” He presented her with a new flower.

“I-I don’t know about flowers,” the fairy stammered, reaching for it cautiously, “is it a dandelion or a daisy? Is it blue?”

“It’s a white camellia, from me to you,” he reached forward himself, and stuck the many-petalled flower’s stem through her short, sapphire hair, and above her left ear. The fairy did not seem to know how to take this act, and he withheld a laugh that was coming out of a twisted love for teasing. He followed his action with, “Well enough of that,” and, “that’s twice I’ve done that today; cosmic forces will be at work to strike me down for my clichés.” He moved his hand past Cirno’s face and stopped it over her spine.

“Eh?” the fairy voiced.

He announced, “Alright, fairy, up you go,” and he lifted her by the back of her dress.

“Haa!? Wha!?” she yelled.

“I’m looking for a mermaid named Wakasagihime. Let’s chat while you guide me.” He stood.

“Eh? Eh!? No!” she cried, twisting and flailing. He held her out away from his body, sporting a pout. “Why should I help you when you’re taking me like _this!?_ ”

Still pouting he thought, _Perhaps as reparation for attacking and threatening me?_ before saying, with sympathy decorating his voice: “But you’re so good at navigation here. Can’t you show me more?”

She held her elbow with her left hand and, in a cocky gesture, cupped her chin with her right, telling him, “Y-Yeah? You want to see what I can do? Well, I can help with that.”

“If you will please, O Master of the Lake.”

“Yes! Me, _the Lake’s Master_ , can show you the way!” she told him, pumping her fists again while looking in his eyes. “I know the Lake like the back of my hand, and all the fish guys in it!”

“Thank you very much,” he replied, bowing slightly. “Let’s go then.”

“Alright!”

He cast his gaze over his shoulder. It seemed like most youkai had left, perhaps (he speculated) due to his confident performance. One, however, still remained. He had been sincerely hoping the aftermath of spring’s return would calm them all, and give him some peace outdoors for _at least_ a few days. The mist was just too much an opportunity, he supposed. He held Cirno out before him, and began to make his way forward until he turned, Cirno having told him he was heading into the lake.

~~

“So does that mean you’re an outsider? Have you ever got eaten?”

“How would I even get back from something like that?”

“Well, like, if whatever ate you was big enough...”

Gen stopped where he was and thought on this for a moment. A dragon? A giant animal? To be swallowed by something like that... having to escape its stomach...

“I don’t like the sound of that,” he answered, continuing along the shore. “Also, getting swallowed whole seems like something only a fairy would worry about.”

Cirno protested, shooting him a look of irritation while crying, “What!? No way! Outsiders get eaten all the time, but do you ever hear about fairies getting eaten!? No! Of course not!”

“You’re all so small, though,” he reminded her.

“I’m strong!” said Cirno. “I’m the strongest!”

“You are undoubtedly powerful for a fairy,” he acknowledged. Even if the pattern she’d shown him earlier had been simple, it had been significant for a being such as herself, both in complexity and density. The fairies of Scarlet Devil Mansions struggled to have such formations, and this was with the head maid’s stringent instruction. Cirno was happy to be praised again, and puffed with pride while smirking with her eyes shut and her arms crossed. He shook her upon seeing this, saying, “Hey, keep looking.”

They had yet to find or hear Wakasagihime, and the youkai at their backs still seemed to be stalking the human of their pair. He no longer knew where precisely on the edge of Misty Lake they were, and he felt as though the landmark had somehow gotten further away than he was used to (and though he told himself this was naturally because he was moving slower than normal, he couldn’t lose the suspicion). Cirno was proving necessary to him today for more than navigation; her simplistic level of speech and self-aggrandizing personality were very helpful in keeping his mind off the idea that whatever was stalking him could lunge out and kill him at any moment. It would be very simple, and the assailant would not need to rely on the spell card rules. While keeping this fear from overwhelming him, he decided he would never enter the lake at noon again.

He paused. He could hear something. “Do you hear that, fairy?”

“What? That song?” Cirno asked, looking confused. “Haven’t we been hearing humming for a while?”

“... _I_ haven’t,” he informed her, glaring. “You’ve been hearing humming?”

“Mm. It’s one of the mermaids,” she replied with casual certainty.

“You... What do you think we’re doing here? Did you already forget?”

“Uh, what was it again?” she asked touching her lip.

“When I’m back in my Master’s library,” he said, “I’m going to research the language of flowers more thoroughly, and give you another signifying ‘idiocy’.”

The singing voice he was hearing began to come across more easily. From the kind of lyrics he heard, he was certain of the vocalist’s identity.

“ _Oh my father was the keeper of the Eddystone light,  
And he slept with a mermaid one fine night,_” ... sang the voice, at an upbeat tempo.

“ _From this union there came three:  
A porpoise and a porgy and the other was me~!_

 _Yo ho hoo!  
The wind blows free,  
Oh for the life on the ro~lling sea~!_”

He headed toward Wakasagihime’s crass singing, having Cirno take care that he wouldn’t fall in the water.

As he came closer...

“ _One night while I was a-trimmin’ out the glim  
A-singin’ a verse from the evenin’ hymn  
A voice from the starboard shouted ‘Ahoy!’  
And there was my mother a-sittin’ on a buoy._

 _Yo ho hoo!  
The wind blows free,  
Oh for the life on the ro~lling sea~!_”

Splish. Splash. As her voice rose in volume from proximity he also heard sounds such as this. Cirno told him to stop at one part of the shore, and he squinted ahead to see if he could spot the mermaid. He did... vaguely; her very female shape, at least, and most noticeably her flapping tail. She was sitting on something near to shore and slapping at the pond below with playful flicks and kicks. As he’d predicted, the mermaid Wakasagihime was in an exceptionally good mood.

He chose to hail her.

“Princess!” he called. “I’ve gotten lost at Misty Lake! Come and protect me!”

The singing stopped, and a somewhat distant reply of, “Eh? Gen?” arrived in its stead. There was a greater splash, and the sound of shifting water, and he threw Cirno toward the lake while turning. He heard this too: the youkai stalking him was finally coming for his neck.

Cirno screamed, of course, and despite having expected this, the apprentice magician did not have a spell on his tongue as he faced the monster (which at most he could tell was some sort of diminutive girl). What he could manage... was an almost dodge: a reflex action. He jerked backward, and the girl bit into his damaged shoulder, anticipating his neck. He stared at her hair, rufous in color, and his eyes widened. This lunge had hurt him, but not precisely for the bite—mostly it was just the act of having weight on his bad side that really affected him. His robe and other clothes were thick enough to save his skin from puncture. He wondered what sort of monster she was.

She started to bite down harder. She started to pierce his clothes.

Breathing fast and thinking faster, he decided to cast from righteous light magic, and with a pair of quickly opened vials had it supplemented with salt and metal: specifically silver. He began to bellow an incantation, and upon hearing it the beast bleeding his shoulder glared at him. He spoke in two foreign tongues to invoke two potent forces, and returned to his own to meld and direct them:

“रोशनी! दुष्टता को निर्वासित किया जाए! इस आत्मा को नरक में ले जाएं।

Ασήμι! Εξαφανίστε το πτώμα και αφήστε τα κόκαλα του κοίλα!

Sunder! Tooth of Heaven!”

Two of his books were open, and a glyph scribed with Hindu, Greek, and old Japanese spiraled into vibrant and blinding existence over his left hand and before the girl’s clothed navel. Light warmed her belly, and then grew painfully hot, before it birthed silver and blossomed violently through her stomach in a sparkling and shining strike. A lance mixed of effulgence and metals sprouted from her back like a gorgeous tree, branching toward the sky. She spat and bled over his shoulder, but with tears in her eyes did not let go.

“You too-foul creature,” he spoke, lifting his still-glowing hand to her forehead—and he put his thumb above her skin, “voi vindeca această ciumă cu flacără. Burn.” The pad of his finger seemed to be set ablaze, and he pressed it into her skull, whereupon the magic leapt from him and latched onto her, immolating her in seconds. She let go then.

Screaming in agony, the youkai fell from him unfed, and his first spell broke and collapsed like fine glass before completely disappearing. The youkai staggered backward, clutching around the point he’d pressed on her head, and crying tears that would dry in an instant from the fire. Rather than standing coolly to witness his victory, Itou Gen staggered too, and fell on his knees.

“ _Haa_... _hhaa_...” he breathed, and his breathing was racked with quakes resulting from his tumultuous nerves. His heart was pounding as though he’d just finished a marathon, and his mind was nearly blank. He did not notice Wakasagihime at his shoulder, nor did he notice Cirno complaining at his left. He hardly noticed the light of the burning youkai before him; it was as if his entire body had paused from being overwhelmed, and his brain needed some time to both process and evaluate what had just happened.

After much shaking from Wakasagihime, and the recovered youkai’s flight from the scene, the conclusion he drew was this: he was a very lucky person, and that was troubling.

Luck had it so that he ran into Cirno first instead of that beast, and Wakasagihime later as well. Without the two factors, he was sure he wouldn’t have had the confidence to risk a close-range youkai-devastator like “Tooth of Heaven”, a spell his Master had taught him for use only in desperation. Further what he realized was that even with his Master’s magic, that weak youkai had been determined to kill him. With exorcism-specific magic scorching its very insides, _it bit harder_. In the end, what he had needed to survive that encounter was physical reflex, a not-powerful-enough (although it was specialized for this very enemy) last ditch spell calling on three schools of magic, and a spell of purification through fire at a very close range. Again, he only felt lucky, and rapidly felt sick of himself.

“What was that all about!?” he finally heard Wakasagihime, and looked at her.

“Did it bite a part of you off!?” asked Cirno at his other side.

“Perhaps it had some of my blood,” he finally answered, “I’m physically... I’m basically fine, though.” After all, to be physically well his heart rate needed to severely relax.

“That was a youkai, wasn’t it? Speak up, idiot!” Wakasagihime desperately begged for an answer, still shaking him.

He admitted, with a shaking voice, “I-I nearly died again, I guess. That’s the first time for it being that close, though, I think. Yeah.” He smiled, of course ruefully. “Wh-What really scares me... is that that was one of my trump cards—eh, ‘cards’, not... really a... card and... all. Uhh...” he shook his head, in a bodily attempt to settle his flying thoughts. “That was... my innate specialty, imbued with materials and my own spirit, and that... thing... still almost ate me.” He then laughed hollowly. “I mean, what the hell...? And here I’d thought I’d really gotten strong.”

“What?” the Princess replied flatly, now holding his shoulder carefully. “You almost killed a youkai, Gen. As in you, a human, nearly performed an extermination, not in the an exorcist’s sense.” She squeezed him gently and continued speaking, “I saw it bite you here—” he looked, and evidently she was touching over the bite marks through his robes “—more strongly, when you cast that first spell. It was almost as good as dead, then. It just wanted to see if it could hurt you.”

“It survived, Princess,” he reminded her, “don’t pity me.”

“It survived because you broke that first spell of yours,” she said. “From what I’ve seen before the Shrine Maiden’s rules took effect, a proper way to kill most any youkai is to pin it and make sure it’s dead. That fire pushed it off, and it got away to heal...” she looked into his eyes, and he saw in her face quite a lot of concern. It was an expression that left him guilty. “It’ll be mad at you now, though,” she continued, “don’t travel in dangerous places for a while, okay?”

“Yes, Mother,” he answered.

She punched him on his head.

Wincing from the still-surprising power of the mermaid, Gen grabbed the cold Cirno and pushed her cheek into his shoulder. The girl complained of the warmth, but he kept her there and directly cooled down, any swelling in his afflicted joints and skin reducing.

“I saw that earlier,” Wakasagihime noted, looking at the glaring Cirno, “it’s a nice lamp for the lake.”

“Thank you,” he said with a small nod, ignoring a sharp “Hey!” from his companion-tool. “I was using her to find you.”

“You came to me... during midday? Gen,” Wakasagihime stopped talking for a moment, looking at him with a face now full of incredulity and “this fool...” pity before unceremoniously knocking him on his head again with her other fist.

“Ow! Wakasagihime! Stop!” he complained, letting go of Cirno to hold his skull. “I’m traumatized right now, girl!”

She punched his wounded shoulder, and he nearly fell backward into the lake.

“Hell’s bells, woman!” he shouted, now clutching his upper arm. It was apparent the fish princess would not be satisfied with his “nearly” falling, as she followed him from her place in the water to sternly poke his body while staring him down.

“You don’t,” she said, and poked, “come in,” she poked again, and pushed, raising her voice, “to the Lake,” she followed up, pushing him to the ledge, “at noon!”

With one final poke he was nearly shoved in, but he stopped by gripping the earth. Breathing heavily again, he awkwardly picked himself up to look at the Princess. The Princess filled her mouth with water, which she then spat into his face as if she’d become a fountain. He fell in.

Another grand splash resounded. Gen, sputtering, yelled in anger, “P-Princess!” and she must have heard his call, for she arrived beside him posthaste, and dragged him underwater. He continued to yell.

Caught in a mess of bubbles and swirling water, he did not notice Wakasagihime maneuvering to his face until she was already there. She held his cheeks in both her hands, and brought him in for a kiss.

Gen’s eyes went wild in a rush of bother and confusion, only somewhat ebbed from the pleasant sensation of the Princess’s lips that he rather steadfastly did not want to enjoy. She released those lips from his, and looked at him somewhat plainly. He complained immediately, shouting “Princess!” once more, and looking even more bewildered that he had spoken perfectly clearly. More bizarrely, it seemed like he was breathing air.

“That won’t last long,” she told him, taking his hand in hers. “Come along, unless you want me to kiss you more,” she teased, smirking over her shoulder as she went on ahead.

He did. He did want to kiss her more. But now was not the time.

Meanwhile, the ice fairy and Master of the Lake, Cirno, hovered above it looking in, coming to the slow realization that in more ways than one, she had definitely, certainly, and rather thoroughly gotten very lost.

~~

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Anchor: F11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/1572838)

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[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=JAZ33IELXIw> ]  
[Misty Lake - Touhou Yukkuri (Yoshio)]

The human was taken to the bottom of the lake. There he noticed nothing in particular, which had him confused. The mermaid pulling him continued to swim, however, and brought him to the sands below. He looked at her, all the more confused.

Wakasagihime placed her hand on a nearby mound and wiped it a few times. It shook, and dirt fell off of it, and he noticed, shimmering above the thing, some hard-to-see and very translucent tube reaching for the surface. He looked now utterly bewildered, not noticing the Princess opening a hidden door on the mound – a proper door, comprised of many shells – until she was already carrying him through it. He looked about rapidly, having much information to absorb.

And so, closing the door behind him, he entered what he took to be surely the mermaid’s home: a small and modest chamber of small collections (stones, of course, but also jars and gadgets for instance), a pile of thick cloth that may have been a bed, a few sitting pillows, a table, a rocking chair, and a window aimed toward the sky. He looked twice at the window. It was not glass that it was crafted from, but some sort of... was it a bubble? The room itself was walled like the milky and shifting-color insides of a seashell, and he went to kneel before it and give it a touch while Wakasagihime swam to the ceiling to fiddle with something.

The wall felt, also, like a shell. He immediately assumed this was a mermaid’s design, and not kappa-tech. That meant this was another of his encounters with blatant fantasy, and examining it he was left quiet in fascination. The water in the Princess’s home began to drain then, and the sound brought him out of his thoughts.

The bizarre tube connected to the top of his friend’s home drew the water out of it, and left Wakasagihime’s abode dry as well, replacing the water with oxygen. Soon, even without the Princess’s aid, Gen could breathe while below Misty Lake.

“What is all this?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling where the strange “vent” was attached. “It has to be mermaids’ work, right?”

Wakasagihime, after smoothing out a rug under her table that expanded to the entrance, crawled toward her rocking chair and pulled herself into it, sighing. Once relaxed, she answered him. “Mermaids are friends of humans,” she said, “I really meant that, you know?”

“This... This is for humans?” he asked, his eyes looking everywhere.

“Well it’s my house,” she said, “but the Sighni’s Pipe is for humans, yes. We can also give a few minutes of our ability to breathe underwater to those we kiss.” She began rocking slowly, looking up on the supposed pipe. She told him, “Because we think ourselves friends, and that we know the sea is dangerous, though beautiful, we don’t want anyone to die tragically within it.” She looked at him, and smiled.

Gen made himself more comfortable, crossing his legs and still looking over his companion’s home. He decided to first ask her, “‘Sighni’s Pipe’? That’s Nordic, right? Was Sighni a mermaid?”

“That’s right,” Wakasagihime said with a nod. “While we mostly believe in the rules of nature insofar as it’s kill or be killed... the _wrath_ of Mother Nature herself is too cruel too often. During storms, humans would often be drowned on the oceans and seas just like that. Sighni was a sympathizer... We all were, but Sighni was a craftswoman and expert of magic. She conceived and designed these things that could create living spaces for humans underwater.” The Princess closed her eyes and chuckled, “Because after all, during a really bad storm getting to shore could be much more dangerous than bringing humans down to the depths.”

“How does it work?” he asked.

“Huh? How would I know?” she answered, looking at him with twisted eyebrows and laughing again. “Do you know how a ventilation system works in a mineshaft?”

“You have a hole that goes to the surface,” he replied, then thought, “... or... I’m not sure it’s that simple, but...”

“Yeah, and the Sighni’s Pipe also replaces water with air and prevents new water from getting in until it’s been turned off. I just know that it’s a good device, I couldn’t _make_ one.”

“Fair enough,” he said.

He began to search through her things, finding familiar and very unfamiliar objects there. He felt the pillows by her table and was surprised at how dry they were. He found where she seemed to keep her clothes, and decided looking more than that would be ungentlemanly.

The Princess watched calmly a while, but decided to speak up again after seeing him at her collection of pebbles. “So,” she said,” what made you come out to the Lake when it was foggy, anyway? Spring is back! You should’ve been celebrating in the mansion!”

Gen put down a smooth and red stone, and turned to face the girl.

“... I,” he started, wincing and frowning somewhat, “I guess since it’s been a year, and I’ve been through so many crazy things, I’m losing my sense of danger.”

“Even if you said it earlier, I’m not your mother, Gen,” said the Princess. “How am I supposed to remind you of something you should know just from being alive and mortal?”

“I guess that was the other thing: I was wondering about if I might become a true magician again,” he replied, his eyes closed.

“It’s too much effort for me to get over there and punch you in your head again, so do it for me,” said Wakasagihime. He refused, and she crossed her arms. “You seem like you’re serious this time. You’re seriously thinking about it, huh Gen?”

“I would say I work like this, Princess:” he began, eyes open now and addressing her with his palm up, “I want a little too much, and due to Master Patchouli’s expectations in me, and my own attitudes, I try a lot.”

“Patience?”

“Among a lot of other things,” he admitted. He thumbed his chin and continued, “I basically just want to be awesome.”

Wakasagihime groaned, and her expression told him she wanted to tell him to get out of her house.

“Listen,” he said, leaning in, “using magic is really incredible.”

“Hmm,” was the only noise she made.

“When I first arrived, more than wanting to go home I wanted to use it for myself. I had the chance, and I took it,” he clenched his fist, gazing into the pattern of her green carpet. “And what’s bad is, I’m realizing that this body is too limited for great magic.”

“You,” said Wakasagihime, grimacing slightly and slumping in her chair somewhat, “You definitely sound like you’re going to become a magician.”

“So here’s the deal:” he followed, now looking at her again, “it’s a whole big mess. Power, immortality, evil, the soul, fear, superstition, belief, requirement, humanity... if I think about even a single one of these things it’s like a floodgate opens in my head and I get stuck. I really get stuck, because I absolutely don’t want to become a youkai.”

Wakasagihime did not answer for a time, only looking him up and down with her arms folded again. She eventually said, “Hm, you’re serious about that too, Gen?”

“I’m really not joking when I say that,” he said, almost pleading. “I’m still a human. I was born outside Gensokyo. I’m, like, totally split here.”

“Hehh...” the mermaid sounded, still scrutinizing him. “Then, okay Gen, here’s the real deal:” she spoke, changing her posture to rest her cheek on the heel of her hand, “don’t become a youkai, and stop _acting_ like one.”

“Huh?” He didn’t get it.

“You’ve become like a youkai, Gen, not like a cheeky joke,” she said. She began to flap her tail lazily, explaining to him thusly: “You crave power, you want to fight, you want freedom in Gensokyo, and you go for it, heedless, all the time. It’s a good thing I’m stuck in the lake, because whenever I see you acting like that it’s very hard to not slap you.”

He did not answer.

“When we got caught by that thing in the lake, that couldn’t be helped, but everything else you tell me, and the times I catch you fighting lakeside, those can be avoided or handled better. Do I have to tell you? Me, huh?”

“Tell me what?” he asked.

“Play safe, you idiot!” she snapped, almost squealing with anger. “And if you don’t want to be a youkai, be a real magician!”

“Uhh??” was the only noise he made.

“How does that Patchouli even deal with you?” said the Princess, wearing a mask of disappointment. “You just need to cool off and learn, and when you’re in danger like a magician you should be playing _smart_.” She frowned, glancing away before acknowledging, “I guess that’s hard for someone _stupid_.”

“Harsh,” he answered, brow furrowed, “you’re being kinda mean, Wakasagihime.”

“Then don’t be stupid, and be safe,” she said, relaxing further and moving her palm over half of her mouth while she leaned to one armrest. “You know what I think whenever you come to see me?”

“What?”

“‘Thank goodness he’s alright’,” she told him. “Because what I think every time you leave is, ‘will he get himself killed tomorrow?’ I said it, didn’t I? Mermaids are humans’ friends, and we don’t want you to die needlessly.” She winced, and wouldn’t look at him. “Watching you march off like that, not taking every safe step, not thinking far enough ahead, or worse seeing what’s ahead and running forward like it’s nothing... it’s like watching someone dive willing into Charybdis. You’re nothing like a true magician, are you?”

“Huh, well,” he was unable to formulate a proper reply, thinking that frankly, this was oddly illuminating for him. Reimu, Sakuya, Meiling, Marisa, and his Master had all told him in parts where he had to improve, but Wakasagihime had cut to the true core of it: that he was, really and honestly, not thinking like a magician.

He stared off into nothing again, his expression stern. That was it: that was why Patchouli was so often upset with him, wasn’t it? She’d implied as much before. It was nice that her student could hold his own _despite_ this and _despite_ that, but when he wasn’t being an entirely proper student, he was surviving on broken principals. She may have been fond of him by now, but Master Patchouli did not respect him. He found that more than anything – more than his love of thrills, more than his love of a fantastic spell card, more than his fears and so many other worries – the idea that he would not be deserving of his Master’s honest praise and approval upset him at his foundations. He wanted to return home – to the library.

“Ah, you look set,” noted his friend, perking up a little, “You want to go home? I was hoping we could talk about _me_ a little today, you know?”

“I—” he began, intending to deny her, but he dropped this and acknowledged another of his faults again: his selfishness. He straightened up and told her, “Actually, I really want to hear more about what’s been going on with you, Princess.” He was honest. “How’d you handle winter? How are you holding up?”

She smiled genuinely. “I didn’t feel it too bad. There were a few nice stones that I found since winter was longer than normal.”

“Like what?”

“That one!” she pointed at a white-flecked rock amidst others of many colors, and told him how it kept winter’s temperature even now into spring. There was also a case of a kappa frozen in ice falling to the bottom of the lake, and her discovery of other special rocks. Eventually, side by side, they examined the things she had gathered, talking of trivialities for once. Talking of mermaids, and of convenience stores. Of vehicular flight, and of myths. For a moment or two, he felt guilty he had not done this with Wakasagihime as often as he’d have liked, but for the joy of conversation this guilt had been fleeting. They lost track of time, pleasant in each other’s company, until long after the mists above had faded.

========

**2 choices**

_When he returned to the Mansion, he absorbed himself in_

[] books regarding youkai,

[] books regarding magic,

[] books regarding outsiders,

_and he read them_

[] after asking for his Master’s help.

[] after asking for Miss Sakuya’s help.

[] after asking for Mistress Flandre’s help.

[] alone.

<>

[X] books regarding youkai,  
[X] after asking for Miss Sakuya’s help.

~~

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Anchor: G11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2475302)

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[ ♫: <http://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=Lyk4cbl9-eE> ]  
[フラワリングナイト - Eternal Eclipse (Saitama Saisyu Heiki & Aether)]

By the time he returned to the mansion, evening was not many hours away.

“So keep that in mind,” Sakuya reminded him, “because I will have to escort the Mistress to Reimu’s party once night falls. We’ll be going late to save the Mistress’s skin.”

“Yeah, thanks again,” he said from his chair, bright-faced in his zeal.

“Don’t mention a word of it. Here,” she handed him a tome, “this should be a better start than the one currently in your hands.”

He took it: another untitled tome, most likely authored by his Master. He and the head maid were in Master Patchouli’s library and researching youkai. He’d asked for his fellow human’s help in finding books as well as in discussion and understanding. He sat before a table piled with books he’d already been meaning to read, while Sakuya stood at a nearby bookshelf that... seemed to be having its contents periodically changed. It was a bit strange to see before his eyes, but he knew already that along with his peer’s manipulation of time came the ability to somewhat manipulate space. Hence the library never felt quite the same, even when sitting in it for hours on end—Sakuya would regularly manipulate its area and layout. He did not know if this was to discourage intruders, assuage Sakuya’s boredom, or simply to irritate his Master.

He put down the large, earth-colored book before him and opened it to his Master’s preface (and from the writing, he knew at once that it was his Master’s). It read so:

_The dilemma of being a Magician Youkai is that we Magicians – although possessing great power, no need of sustenance, and optional eternal life – are for the most part, physically the same as humans. In fact, we are often lesser as a result of our means of experimentation. At the time of this writing, I have already become anemic for instance... Although I possess the dark power of a youkai, I can still be attacked by others who may ignore my energy and aura or simply confuse me for a human. This has also happened..._

_This is a book of countermeasures... or more importantly avoidance, to not have to contend with the more bothersome sorts of evil beings who may try to attack me in confusion or in malice. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and unknowns near to your heart. The unknowns—youkai—will be known through this book._

He thought to himself after reading this, _Why didn’t Master Patchouli give me this book to read when I looked for bestiaries before?_ He frowned, _Just didn’t want to show any of her weakness, I’m betting._ Chewing the inside of his bottom lip, he turned the pages over past the table of contents and to the meat of it: the entries.

... And he soon began to notice a trend.

_Nothing to fear._

_Nothing to fear._

_Nothing to fear._

Every log and detailing and summary of a youkai began with these words. Had this been written by anyone other than his Master, he’d have suspected this to be a kind of self-fulfilling mantra, but as he knew her he was sure this was an honest and matter of fact evaluation of each and every other monster Master Patchouli could think of. _It might become a mantra for me,_ he thought.

“Master Patchouli definitely wrote this,” he said.

“As you know, she wrote most of the books in the library,” said Sakuya, putting down another pile of books and having a seat on the right side of the table, so that she was beside him. His Master was elsewhere in the library at the time, penning another for the collection now that she’d conducted experiments using the souls of the dead. He was still deeply impressed that much of this incredible space was dedicated to one person’s works of just over a hundred years.

Looking at Sakuya, he saw that she now had a teacup, and seemed to be going over the books they had chosen and set on the table. She drank from the cup and meticulously dragging her finger across the spines. Briefly putting her cup down (on a plate that had not been there before), she continued speaking, “That book you have now was helpful to me some time after the Lady Patchouli’s arrival. I knew of the Mistresses, yes, but most youkai were very unknown to me... Seeing the opportunity, Mistress Remilia wanted me to be capable of fighting and winning against anything. That was also why she sought out Meiling, now that I think of it...” She smiled, tapped the ridge of her teacup, and caught his eyes to follow with, “Mentioning Meiling is rather funny in this context, isn’t it?”

“Miss Meiling is quite strong,” he replied seriously, returning his eyes to the book and turning another page over, “though it is a funny thing to say. Did you see me against her earlier today?”

“Did I see her not working and then losing against our most recent resident? Yes, of course,” Sakuya answered. “That youkai needs to shape up.”

“Hmm...” he mumbled. He was now reading about beast youkai, and the many ways that they manifested.

To this point, he had only looked into what he imagined would be local problem youkai he might stumble across in his work and trips, and his greatest focus had of course been on magic. He knew basic means to deal with just about any monster, but his Master’s specific details were proving illuminating. The beastlike nature of beast youkai, for instance, was something he hadn’t really gathered in his limited exposure to them. They to him seemed more manlike than animal, but reading these entries now he determined treating them _more_ as animals would prove beneficial. Give a fox some tofu, spook a rabbit, generally attempt to intimidate those that would, as ordinary animals, succumb to intimidation... These means would all be much more conservative than to just rush into battle, without mentioning the potential safety of these tactics.

“... _Suuuuwww_.”

He leapt in his seat, a strange noise arriving at his ear. _Slurping!?_ he thought, and looked to his right to find Sakuya over his shoulder, hand on the back of his chair. She was sipping tea while beside him, at a very deliberate volume. He shot her a shocked and vaguely angered look, but she only commented on what he was reading.

“How many times have you encountered beast youkai, Gen?”

“Not... too... often...” he answered, leaning away from her. “... Perhaps thrice, all in all. I try to leg it if I ever hear or feel anything suspicious, if I can.”

“Did you know how to identify them from ordinary animals?” she asked, looking at him with a smirk. “They’re not all in the shape of men and women, you know.”

“I didn’t know, actually,” he said, “though I know youkai don’t have to look human, and I’ve seen as much. There are youkai that look like animals completely?”

“Oh yes,” said Sakuya, standing up straight. “Patchouli and other youkai can tell them apart from feeling, assuming they are not disguising themselves like tanuki or foxes, so she doesn’t mention anything about identifying them in this book, nor any of hers in the library.”

He returned to normal posture, and waited for Sakuya to continue.

“The best way to tell is that they don’t often act as ordinary beasts do. Truly, their behavior is often slightly... off. It’s not something so easy to explain, as it’s best to know more about fauna in general before you begin to notice. You should come with me on some hunting and leisurely trips through Gensokyo, Gen; you could build up knowledge through observation that way.”

“A very kind offer of you, Miss Sakuya,” he said in earnest and with a chipper face.

Sakuya shrugged with exaggerated motions, her now-empty teacup vanishing from her hand. She said, “I do not want you to embarrass Scarlet Devil Mansion,” and went to the other side of the table to continue evaluating books.

He returned to the book before him again, saying, “In that case, might you have some other general advice, Miss Maid?”

“It is likely I do,” she said, crouching to look at an awkwardly placed column of manuals, “but I am rather together, Gen—I don’t think about most of what I do, I act upon what I know, feel, intuit, et cetera. You’ll have to give me a prompt to recall any specific advice.”

“Fair enough, Your Elegance,” he answered dryly.

Sakuya nodded politely, and continued. “My best advice is to read these books,” she told him, nodding now at the pillars of paper and leather on the table. It was then he noticed there were not as many as before, and saw tall in her hands most of the books he had chosen to put down among the others. “Not these, though,” she said.

“You... You’re sure? I thought those looked... I mean, I thought they looked good... to read...” he mumbled, watching her walk over to bookshelves surrounding them, smoothly and almost acrobatically replacing the books one by one.

“I’m sure. Not that these have no use, but...” she slipped another into place and showed him a pleasant, cheerful expression, “... for your needs, save them for another day, month, or year.”

“Hmmmm, okay...” he replied with reluctance, and a little disappointment could be easily detected in his voice.

“You really know almost nothing about youkai at all, Gen,” she said, smirking again. “I would say it’s amazing you’re still alive, but I’ll grant that you do indeed _tend_ to remain to safe places when you wander Gensokyo.” Finishing her task, she faced him with her arms crossed, leaning against the shelf she had filled and beginning to relax. “The books you intended to waste time on might increase your vocabulary right now, but not your capability.”

“I see...”

He had decided on an assortment of mythological texts for reading, which would have kept him aware of even rare creatures in Gensokyo, he wagered. However, those were essentially all the texts which Sakuya had decided to return.

“You will need to pace yourself when it comes to studying behaviors, strategies, and countermeasures,” she continued. “Prioritize what you can really expect first. Retain that crucial information. Pacing matters for you especially, Gen, since you are clearly not very interested in any of this.”

“I-I’m interested!” he lied.

“You’re intrigued. Or more accurately: awakened to necessity. That’s what compels you, and that’s fine,” she said, now taking out one of her knives. “It’s not entertaining material, I am full aware.”

He looked at her, looking at her knife, in quiet. She, as always, looked entirely cool, calm and collected, even with a knife so close to her eye. He still only ever saw the breathing motions of her body if he ever spotted her asleep—she carried such impossible composure, really.

“Were you ever flustered in life, Sakuya? Ever?” he asked.

She glanced at him, and spoke after a moment, “... You’re inconsistent with the ‘Miss’, hm?”

“One day I’ll drop it entirely,” he said. “So?”

“Of course I have not always been composed. I had a childhood and I’m still an adolescent, Gen.”

“Still?” he asked. “In all seriousness.”

“In all seriousness,” said Sakuya, “you shouldn’t ask a woman about her age.”

“Oh, right, uhm, my apologies.”

“I have told you about my past troubles, due to my powers. There were many times then that I lost composure. You have surely also noticed by now that I anger easily.”

“It’s a composed sort of anger, though,” he noted.

“Goodness, Gen; just let me tell you that I am also imperfect.”

“Hmm...”

He looked at her pouting face and thought back to conversations with their Mistress. Mistress Remilia had informed him that she had “lost track” of how many years Sakuya had been at the mansion. Thus, he imagined that although she was not immortal, Sakuya’s “time” was being manipulated. It would explain her near-perfection, but also give him less confidence in himself.

“If you think that it is only a matter of vast experience that I can brave Gensokyo as if it is nothing,” said Sakuya, “you are right.”

It felt as though an iron lump had dropped inside of him to hear this, and his face reflected that disappointing feeling. However, Sakuya reassured him by saying, “But if that... ‘ordinary magician’ who lives in the forest can do near the same, you should carry more faith that you can get... a _little_ close to me.” Sakuya did not look at him as she mentioned Marisa, so she did not see the enthusiasm return to his face. Indeed, Marisa was younger than him and had admitted herself that she did not travel Gensokyo fearlessly, only confidently. Although in his human lifetime he could possibly not reach Sakuya’s level of will and strength, he still had her here to help him, and could still assuredly improve.

He read for a while longer, Sakuya eventually getting another cup of tea and sitting on the back of his chair, watching dust fall over the library. When he saw her doing this and gave her a look, she only said, “It’s a bother to clean,” and continued to relax. He finished the book, having made notes in his own journal, and continued onto another, and another, Sakuya chiming in or being called on regarding this or that beast and this or that method of handling something throughout his research. They also discussed common youkai haunts for a time, in general and in Gensokyo, which let a surprising amount of weight off his mind.

Later, while reading about mermaids, he mentioned to Sakuya, “Miss Sakuya, why don’t you become immortal yourself?”

And she, seated behind him, told him this: “Because being what you are is too precious to change.” He looked up at her, and her down on him. In the little light of the library, her pale figure did not demonstrate humanity at all, he thought. But, her words told different: “A name can change, a position can change, or a profession, or a place of living. Indeed, even your being can change, but I believe it should not.”

She spoke in an even tone as she delivered the core of her reasoning: “I am Izayoi Sakuya, Maid of the Devil, Resident of Gensokyo... titles, names, roles; but nothing ‘always’... With that said, I have always been human. I am a human that serves our Mistress, and that is what I will ever be.”

“So many people speak with conviction here,” he said.

“You have, too,” she observed.

“I think it’s contagious.”

The maid chuckled, and checked her breast pocket for her watch. “Look at that,” she said, “I must be off. Will you be joining us?”

========

**Pick one or the other, but give your choices for companionship for both choices, in case the other wins.**

[] Yes.

(attend the party, stay with, in particular:

[] Reimu [] Marisa [] Remilia [] Sakuya [] Yuyuko [] Youmu [] Alice )

_Pick up to three._

[] No.

(stay and study with:

[] Flandre [] Master Patchouli [] No one )

_Pick one, of course._

** I.E. **

**[X]Yes.**

**[X] Bonnie [X] Clyde**

**[] No.**

**[X] Lincoln**

**-or-**

**[]Yes.**

**[X] Bonnie [X] Clyde [X] Teddy Roosevelt**

**[X] No.**

**[X] Lincoln**

<>

[X] Yes.  
[X] Youmu [X] Alice [X] Reimu [X] Remi

He looked to his book of notes (noticing only now with a break of flow that his left-handwriting was... genuinely not ideal) and put the quill he’d been using between its pages. He looked up and behind himself after to say, “I think that I will. Let me tell Master Patchouli first and I’ll meet you at the door. You did say I should pace myself after all, and I should probably cool off.”

“As you will,” said Sakuya, and she disappeared. He stood then, marked where in the tomes he had left off, and began to wander through the library’s rows in search of his dear Master.

~~

~~[♫]~~

* * *

Anchor: H11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2594897)

* * *

“And here we are,” said his Mistress, landing before him and his fellow human, “the miserable stairs of a poor human. Unkempt as ever, aren’t they?”

“They are, Mistress,” said Sakuya in agreement. Gen was silent, looking over the Shrine’s staircase and surroundings with curious eyes. He hadn’t seen it or the hill it was on before without any trace of snow.

“We will, of course, walk from now on,” said Remilia matter-of-factly, “and look, the Sun is down;” she indicated to the sky for the both of them, where now hung the Moon, “I won’t be needing this anymore.”

His Mistress, who had been carrying a broad parasol, now closed it and handed the fanciful and girlish item to her second servant. She ordered simply: “Gen.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answered, taking it and hanging it on his right wrist.

With it given, the vampire looked him up and down with a charming smile and a confident pose before declaring: “You look very cute.”

“Thanks, Lady Remilia.”

His Mistress only huffed with pride, her eyes closed. She turned from her two humans and started up the stairs, only to trip and fall, her wings spreading in shock. He started toward her at once, while Sakuya looked happy at his left, and walked past their Mistress without extending a hand. “Watch where you’re going, Mistress Remilia,” she said, and continued up the stairs.

The boy among them stopped at his Mistress’s right side and offered his good hand, which she took and used to pick herself up, growling all the while. When he saw her face, he puffed with laughter behind harshly closed lips. She glared at him.

“Very well, Gen,” she said, “now you must escort me hand in hand up the stairs. Enjoy my cold touch, boy.”

He smirked at her demeanor, and kept her hand, saying, “Please, Mistress: you know this is a reward if anything.”

“Of course it is!” she answered, and they were off to follow Sakuya, who had not waited.

The Hakurei staircase to the same-named Shrine was quite pretty, he thought. In the Outside World, he had lived somewhere where the night sky lacked stars, and on those Gensokyo nights when he got to see it, he was always taken aback for a while at the swirling, fantastical cosmos spreading overhead. On the staircase, it almost felt like he was ascending now into the Heavens, with a Devil in hand. There was a sound of joyousness in the distance, but mainly from the surrounding trees he could only hear the little things of the earth, loudly crying now that the season had finally turned, as if to scream “I am alive!” He squeezed his Mistress’s hand, feeling some significance to this time and place.

“You look happy,” she observed, “do you like the underside of Sakuya’s skirt so much?”

He turned his head to the vampire quickly, wearing a glare. “That isn’t where I’m looking!” he snapped.

His Mistress pointed upward, looking to tease. “It’s a nice place to look, though,” she said.

“Don’t tell Miss Sakuya that I said that, Mistress. She’ll kill me.”

“She will, won’t she! Ahahahah!!” his Mistress laughed, and then grinned, her left elbow waving at her side in her childish glee.

Scowling, he continued to make his way.

After a few minutes (or so it felt), they neared the highest point, and with her eyes on the approaching torii Remilia spoke again. “Do you still keep my gift?” she asked.

“I always do,” he assured her, his eyes on the gate as well.

“I appreciate that, Itou Gen,” spoke his Mistress in cool honesty. “Come now,” she said, now looking his way, “let’s enjoy bothering Reimu.”

He nodded in return, and they crested the hill where Sakuya stood waiting.

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=KaXYB6Kux7k> ]  
[風穴カーニバル - Carnival! (Floating Cloud)]

“DRINK!“ roared a child’s voice, and a storm of cherry blossoms, shining with moonlight, blew over him.

He stood still, Remilia gently removing her hand from his and giving Sakuya a look (arms crossed), before joining her to enter the Shrine grounds.

Although when last he’d seen the Hakurei Shrine it was in a state that could only be described as “sorry” (and indeed still it was looking no better from a perspective of maintenance), at present it seemed to be bustling with excitement and gaiety, likely for the party had been going since the afternoon. The Shrine’s now-blooming cherry trees were also showering the scene in a lovely and almost dazzling pink and white hue that made it splendor to witness. There were youkai reveling here, and he thought even one had the look of a tengu, but at the center of the chaos before him was Hakurei Reimu, looking the happiest of the bunch with Kirisame Marisa under her arm. More than the few other humans there, eating and drinking with monsters beside them, it was that little girl’s glowing face that told him there was nothing to worry about whilst on these grounds.

He hadn’t noticed while ascending the stairs with his Mistress, but there also seemed to be a band playing near the trees. Or... they weren’t _playing_ , it seemed. Three flight-capable girls in distinct colors (red, black, and rose-white) were... perhaps manipulating(?) three separate instruments floating beside them to give song to the festivities. They brought strings, brass, and what seemed to be a keyboard of all things to the Hakurei’s gathering, and a festive, distinctly loud and somewhat messy song was being cast out from their direction. Although rough, it did not seem the party-goers minded the almost-noisy tune.

Still standing dumbly beneath the shrine’s torii, Gen returned his eyes to the guests surrounding Reimu. He wondered if he might find Youmu and her Mistress there, and in short order he did.

Moving first to a spread of food for one skewer of dango and another of fish, he intended to swiftly approach the dead and a half pair, but stopped after taking a single step toward them. With recollections of the day before, and a worry about the awkwardness of his self in general, he froze there, reconsidering an approach so forward.

Gen began to worry. Although he had become quite familiar with Youmu, he recalled that with parties he had nowhere near the same acquaintance. Sweating there, and with his heart beating nervously, he stood in front of the table of food, nibbling at his skewer of fish with a pale face. Chewing anxiously, he attempted to look as though he was appreciating the flowering trees while glancing toward Youmu now and then. After a little time had passed, he sighed, squinting at the earth instead.

The fates had mercy on him then, however, as when he stole another look at the half-phantom, he saw that she was looking at him as well. When she caught his eye, she waved toward him with a pitying glance that he wasn’t sure he understood, and beckoned him over. He looked behind himself at the no persons there (just to be sure), and began his uncool walk toward the girl of his sad affections. As he did, he came to understand her look of pity.

On Youmu’s lap, and kept steadied by her hand, was a significantly piled plate of food, and at Youmu’s side was Saigyouji Yuyuko, the Mistress of Hakugyokurou, eating from it plentifully. He approached them, and offered a greeting of, “Good evening.”

Youmu’s smile was still one of pity (he now knew toward herself) as she sat in seiza, while Saigyouji Yuyuko looked up at him with her doe-eyed faced, her seating posture a heart-catching yokozuwari.

“Oh my,” said the full-ghost of the pair, touching her lower lip with her left hand and setting down a pair of chopsticks that had been in her right, “if it isn’t the boy from the Outside World. Welcome to my party.”

“It’s my party!” yelled Reimu, to his surprise (as it had not registered to him that the child was sat really and very close by the pair from the Netherworld). “This is a celebration for my resolving of the Incident!”

“I resolved it,” said Marisa, still under Reimu’s arm with her eyes now sleepily closed, and cheeks very colored red-faced.

“You got in the way,” grumbled Reimu, looking at her friend. After a moment she looked at Gen with a bright grin and said, “Like this guy! Hey, Gen, drink up! Have a seat and a dish! Go on, go on!” She splashed her own dish of alcohol in a boisterous gesture while addressing him, and he stiffly nodded while following her command.

“You can put those down on our plate,” said Saigyouji Yuyuko, looking at his skewers. With an “ah” of notice, he did so.

“Ah,” echoed Youmu, seeing his move, but elaborating no further than that. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

“Here, a dish,” said the ghost beside him, handing him a sakazuki. He took it in his left hand, and began to realize that without the floating spirits gently following this woman, he would not have taken her for dead at all. “Your cup,” she said, holding a tokkuri. He held the dish she’d given him up, and the Ghost Princess of Hakugyokurou filled it with the smooth motions of a thoroughly experienced host. He felt his face blush.

“Th-Thank you,” he said as she placed the tokkuri down among a large circle of others and picked up her own dish.

“Youmu, you too,” she said, and her servant took up a sakazuki as stiffly as he had. “A toast, to Gensokyo’s safety. Cheers!”

“Ch-Cheers,” the half and full humans said, stuttering in the same manner, out of sync. They drank, and when he finished he put his sakazuki atop his crossed legs and reached for his now-barren skewers. He made a gasp of confusion then, looking at Youmu, who only looked at her Mistress, miserable.

Saigyouji Yuyuko now had her left hand held completely over her mouth, and her eyes were closed. She said, “Delicious~” and he was astonished.

He opened his mouth to confirm his suspicions, and heard Reimu’s voice instead of his own: “‘Gensokyo’s safety’!? I don’t want to hear that from _you_!”

“Oh? What do you mean?” asked Saigyouji Yuyuko, evidently genuinely confused. Reimu growled at her, reminding Gen of an angry dog. Yuyuko looked all the more concerned, mumbling “I don’t understand...” before turning to him and speaking again. “It is very nice to meet you, Gen. I am Saigyouji Yuyuko, Youmu’s master. I understand you are the one who helped my Youmu with her gathering of spring. That was very bad of you, you know.”

“Uh—” unused to her pace, Gen could only manage this, pausing after to compose himself and answer in seriousness: “Yes, I apologize.”

“Yes, you should,” she scolded, “Youmu doesn’t know aaanything. You shouldn’t have helped her, and should have let her learn on her own!”

“Ahh,” he answered, thinking just after, _Hm? That’s what she meant?_

“L-Lady Yuyuko...” mumbled Youmu, blushing with embarrassment.

“What is it? Youmu. Speak up,” said her Mistress plainly.

“I-I’m...” managed Youmu, and he saw her quickly glance at him before staring into her sakazuki with an even more scarlet face, “I’m still young!”

Now he blushed.

“Oh, Youmu,” said Yuyuko, almost squirming with delight as she reached to her servant and began to pet her hair. Youmu squirmed as well, and he saw that she was not sure whether to smile or frown. “You’re so cute, aren’t you?” continued her Mistress, following with “Hey, hey,” as she poked the half-phantom’s cheek. Youmu’s ghostly half twisted in the air behind her, and then seemed to try to hide at her right side. Gen, who was still debilitated by secondhand embarrassment, slowly began to understand the gardener a little better.

Eventually he could talk again, and said “W-Well, I have a bad habit of helping, I’ll try remedying that.”

“Hmm?” replied Saigyouji Yuyuko, looking over to him, and she said no more than that.

“Ahem,” he cleared his throat, fist before his mouth. “I am honestly sorry that I had to try to stop you, Lady Saigyouji. I thought it would be for the best.”

“My name is Yuyuko,” she said.

“Ah, Lady Yuyuko.”

“My name is Yuyuko,” she repeated.

“Y-Yu... Yuyu... ko...” he said with painstaking effort and an expression to match.

“Talk to Youmu now,” Yuyuko casually ordered, standing up. “I will go see the flowers of earth, in their inelegance.”

“Hey!” came an expected shout.

“The beauty and majesty of these gardens, minute as a cat’s forehead, can of course not at all compare to that of those in the Netherworld.”

“A cat’s...? Jeez, I’ll _send_ you to the Netherworld,” threatened Reimu, and with a fresh smile to the Shrine Maiden, Saigyouji Yuyuko walked toward the musicians and the cherry trees behind them.

“So that’s your master,” said Gen, watching the Ghost Princess stride away.

“Yes, that is Lady Yuyuko,” answered Youmu, almost in resignation.

“You seem to be a lot better, by the way, Youmu. I’m happy to see you in fairer spirits than yesterday,” he told her, taking up Yuyuko’s abandoned chopsticks and awkwardly grabbing some beansprouts from the cornucopia plate which Youmu still had.

“Yes,” said the gardener, turning her lips up only slightly, “I had just needed to face a trouble I’d been having head-on. I also... I also have decided to hold onto the hope that my Master is still out there, and that his departure was a lesson I have yet to understand.”

“Oh?” he commented while munching.

“He, Lady Yuyuko, and Lady Yukari, are all adults who are hard for me to understand, but I am sure that in time I will have a grasp on it all.” She showed him a determined fist, smirking a bit with building confidence. “Until then, I’ll try to just be sure of myself first! I will follow the way of the sword that I know, and be certain of it! More certain! Absolutely certain! So, thank you Gen!”

He stopped chewing. With the simple innocence displayed in her face combining with her hopeful words, he felt as though an arrow had been shot through his heart. He quickly looked to the left, and then the sky, chewing again as his gaze shook. _Bad...!_ he thought. _This girl’s purity is too much...!_

“Y-Yeah, don’t mention it!” he said, floundering. He pulled his eyes toward her again, and they went wide as his gaze fell on her neck. He noticed that it was exposed, her tie loosened and the first button of her shirt undone. His gaze sharpened as the thought of _Collarbones...!_ fired through his mind. He tried not to focus any further on the ridges. Not the small beads of sweat clinging to them, nor the tapered and smooth way they seemed to curve out of his sight, nor the motion of her throat when she drank another cup and sighed with heat, nor the way her chest rose and fell with the steadiness of her breath.

He tore his eyes upward to meet with hers and said, “You know, Youmu...!” pointing toward Reimu’s entourage with the chopsticks he was holding, “My Master is here, too! Well, my Mistress: Mistress Remilia!”

“Ah, the vampire?” asked Youmu with interest. “Is it that girl in the pink dress by Reimu? The winged one?”

“Yes...” he answered, already calming down. It helped that, at the time of his witnessing the Mistress, she was clinging to an irritated Reimu while squeezing a rather uncomfortable Marisa’s face in with her stomach. He continued, saying, “She can be unreasonable, but she’s done a lot for me since I got here, and she’s quite admirable.”

“Lady Yuyuko is not very admirable,” said Youmu frankly—frankness he wasn’t expecting. “I am her loyal retainer all the same. I would do anything for my Mistress.”

“Well that’s good,” he said, “insofar as you must like her very much then. It’s not good what you two tried to do to Gensokyo and that tree.”

“I have to follow my orders,” said Youmu flatly. “Would you not do anything for Lady Remilia and Miss Patchouli?”

He thought about this, staring at Youmu for a moment before his eyes began to wander and his expression began to shift in thought. “At present,” he eventually started, “I don’t think that I would, honestly.”

“Gen, that’s terrible,” responded Youmu at once and with all honesty, a look of pity again on her face. He shared the look as she poured at more sake for herself, and he continued.

“My masters are the kind who could whimsically send me to my death should they be at all bored. I will have to say no sometimes, and it is expected of me if I’m being truthful.”

“Hohh... to your death...?” repeated Youmu seriously, sipping from her dish of new sake.

“The Scarlet Devil Mansion is a bizarre place run by bizarre people,” he said truthfully, though looking at Remilia he followed with, “but I’ve come to like it. I would do... _near_ anything they would ask of me.”

“You need to work on your loyalty,” said Youmu, “I would half-die for my Mistress.”

“You’re already half-dead,” he told her, frowning.

“Ah, you’re right!” said Youmu in shock. He looked at her with concern. “What on earth...? I’d forgotten...!?” she went on, her voice growing faint. “Could it be the moon, driving me mad!? Could it not affect me while I was in the Netherworld...!?” The half-phantom held her head, staring into the source of her present conundrum in her left hand.

“You’re getting drunk,” said Gen, pointing at the sakazuki. “It seems that you’re a lightweight, Youmu.”

To his surprise, Youmu giggled at this comment, beaming at him and saying, “Heh heh, yeah, I am. Do you want to hold me and pick me up? I am very light in weight, you know!”

She held her arms out to him.

He put his hand up, and looked away from her while a blush spread over his cheeks and to his ears. As he answered, he glanced at her open collar several times in spite of himself. “I-I’ll pass,” he said, “in fact, I think I’ll leave you for a moment at least. I should take the time to talk with Miss Reimu and my Mistress while I have this festive opportunity.”

“Very good,” said Youmu, serious again as he stood up, placing his sakazuki down beside him. “I will guard Lady Yuyuko’s food. Be vigilant, Gen!”

“Uh, right, I will.” He put down the chopsticks he’d been using where he’d gotten them, picked his sakazuki up from the ground where he’d placed it, and walked toward the vampire, maid, magician, and shrine maiden.

“Oh ho, if it isn’t Gen, finally deciding to join his _lord_ after escorting her to a party.”

Gen stopped before his Mistress, and with furrowed brow looked away before answering, “... ‘Lady’, Mistress?”

“Master!” said Remilia, with a charismatic glare. “Of Fate!” the vampire finished, now squeezing a groaning Reimu and Marisa tight to her body. “ _Your_ fate in particular, Gen!”

“Mm, yes, Mistress Remilia.”

With this, he sat on his knees before her. Remilia finally released the humans, and Marisa collapsed, her head falling on Reimu’s lap where she proceeded to entirely lose consciousness and there begin to drool. The Shrine Maiden did flick the magician in her cheek a few times, but this only made her friend readjust for comfort. Giving up, Reimu continued to drink, deciding to make the best of the matter and use Marisa’s head as an armrest.

“It looks like you get along well with the Hakurei, Mistress Remilia,” Gen commented. As he did, he spotted that Sakuya beside her seemed to be nodding off while sipping from a cup.

“Of course, it’s me after all,” bragged his Mistress. Reimu only glowered at her while drinking.

“So,” began Gen, turning to the pouting little girl, “taking all the credit for resolving the incident, are you?” He smirked at her, and she turned her glowering on him, pulling her cup from her lips.

“I recall you being there, Gen,” she said, “but I don’t remember _you_ fighting with that ghost.”

“I ‘fought’ with the tree, with Marisa’s help,” he told her.

“I didn’t need any help. I just needed my seals, my gohei, and my needles, like always,” the shrine maiden insisted.

“Well, rewrite history as it’s being made, little girl;” he gave her, “I probably would be safer kept out of it anyway, and a Marisa even more big-headed than usual would just give me and Master a headache.”

“Reasonable,” said Reimu. “You get how this works. You want to take credit? Learn to fight first, and how to dodge before that.”

“Learn something first before first?”

“It’s easy,” she said.

Ignoring this nonsensical advice, he told her, “As a matter of fact, I’m going to learn how to avoid fighting altogether for now.”

“That’s even smarter,” Reimu told him, drinking more.

“Now is that so...?” his Mistress remarked, drawing his attention. When he looked at her, he saw her presenting him a filled dish, and realized shortly it was his. She delivered to him a composed look, and he took it to mean “be honored”. He was.

He took the dish and drank from it as his Mistress continued speaking, her mouth a perfectly devious-looking shape, “I appreciate your boldness every day, Gen, but you really would die by keeping up the way you’ve been going you know. Does Patche know about this change in direction?”

Finishing his cup, he answered, “I told her just today, before we left for this flower-viewing.”

“What did she say?” Remilia asked.

“‘Huh? Since when did you grow sense?’”

“Kyahahahaha!” his Mistress laughed, holding her stomach.

“She said that as punishment for being stupid for so long, she wouldn’t help me on this new front I’m attempting.”

“How cruel of her,” said the Devil.

“I haven’t seen that shut-in for a while,” Reimu cut in, “how’s she doing?”

“Master is doing great, and she isn’t a shut-in,” Gen replied.

“I invited your master, so why ain’t she here?” the girl asked.

“Busy,” he answered bluntly.

“Reimu, Reimu, listen to this...” his Mistress began, and the two of them turned to her. At this point, he noticed that Sakuya was fast asleep, sitting perfectly straight. The vampire continued enthusiastically, talking animatedly with her hands, “Patche made a replica of that Netherworld mansion!”

“She’s still researching things about it,” he elaborated.

“Hmm...?” moaned Reimu, showing some interest in her eyes.

“It was a gift to me, and I will allow you to come see it if you like!” Remilia offered, touching a hand to her chest as her wings fluttered happily.

“I may take you up on that offer,” said Reimu, “because going to the real Netherworld is kind of a pain. Does it have real ghosts too?”

“It does!”

“That would be useful in the summer then. Or was it phantoms that were cold?”

“Sakuya caught both, and as well she gathered soil and unique cherry blossom petals,” explained Remilia, clasping her maid on the shoulder and waking her up.

“Hn?” was the only noise the maid made before she near-instantly began dozing off again.

Gen observed this small conversation worriedly, thinking that tampering with departed souls was really not the best thing to do (even if he had done so himself under his Master’s instruction).

So, he said as much.

“Shouldn’t you be worried about messing with the departed, Miss Reimu? The Mistress is already a lost cause.”

“Hey,” snapped his Mistress, who he did not give even a fleeting glance.

Reimu shrugged. “Nobody’s perfect,” she said, “and I’ll take my imperfections to the Yama in the end. She can judge me then, my good deeds and my bad ones.”

 _Spooky..._ he thought. _Reimu’s so at ease with mortal life. I mean, I guess I sort of am too, but I’m not sure I could say the same thing so easily._

“It’s those souls’ fault for not escaping Sakuya,” Remilia said. “They should’ve had more sense than that. How’d they even get caught!?”

“... That’s a good question,” he replied.

“Is it anything like catching rabbits?” Reimu asked.

“... They’re dead,” said Gen.

“What do dead people eat?” asked Reimu, looking at Remilia.

“I’m not dead,” said Remilia, shaking her head.

“Aren’t vampires undead?” the shrine maiden asked.

“As you can see, I am clearly alive!” his Mistress insisted. “And if I were _un_ dead, I wouldn’t be dead!”

“Umn... I... guess?” pondered the Hakurei, looking puzzled. “But the undead are moving corpses?”

“I wonder if they can think if their brains are rotten,” said the vampire, arms folded as she seriously considered this.

“Let’s ask Sakuya, then.”

“Sakuya’s brains are totally healthy!”

“No, about catching ghosts.”

“Ahh...”

There was silence for a moment before Reimu spoke up again.

“... So?”

“... Our Sakuya is asleep. Please write a memo for her to read later and submit it as the standard mailing rules dictate. Before the witching hour.”

“‘A _memo_ ’—? ... I don’t have any paper.”

“Gen probably has paper.”

“Wait, why don’t we just ask a dead person?”

“Are there dead people here?”

“I think those two are dead.”

 _What is this conversation?_ thought Gen.

“Hey ghost!” Reimu called to Youmu. “What would you eat to fall into a trap!?”

But Youmu did not respond. She was chuckling to herself while hugging her phantom half, and seemed oblivious to the world.

“Tch, useless huh?” said the callous Reimu. Gen reminded her that phantoms were not ghosts, and further that Youmu was only half of one anyway. “... _Hah?_ ” was the shrine maiden’s response, before she began to lecture him about phantoms, ghosts, and departed souls in general in surprisingly great detail (more surprising was the fact that at no point did she prove phantoms were equivalent to ghosts, and nor did she even try). Meanwhile, Remilia began to stack unused sakazuki atop Sakuya’s very still head, enjoying the rare moment she had caught her maid sleeping before bedtime.

* * *

Anchor: I11

  
[[1]](https://danbooru.donmai.us/posts/2208641)

* * *

After Reimu’s lesson was done, she seemed to notice the music that the trio on the outskirts of her grounds was playing, and seemed to favor it. She insisted that everyone come to join her before the little concert the strange girls were performing, but not before carefully removing the meter-high stack of cups on Sakuya’s head that Remilia had managed. She ordered Gen to bring the sleeping girls (Sakuya, Marisa, and now Youmu) inside her home, which he reminded her would be difficult with his one good arm. She told him then to use one good arm, and one bad.

He was not happy with this answer, but still proceeded to listen to the child’s command. With much effort, he put all the girls in Reimu’s room, one after the other. He found quite a few futons to use, which reminded him that despite her ever-present veneer of aloofness and simplicity, Reimu was really a genuinely helpful person. In fact, if he ever asked, she _would_ still take him safely to his first home, just like that. _What a mysterious girl,_ he thought now as he covered said girl’s magician friend with a sheet and refit his hurt arm in its sling. Looking over those asleep he also thought, _So Youmu’s phantom half is tethered to her, somehow...? At any rate, she really is quite light. Sakuya was the only one who made my arm hurt, really._

_... Better not tell her that._

~~[♫]~~

He left the room, and went to sit on the porch with another cup of sake. In the distance, all those of the party were cheering to an even-louder-than-before band. They played a high-energy rendition of _Sakura Sakura_ , and seemed to have the crowd enraptured. _Appropriate,_ he thought.

“Won’t you join the cheering, sir?” came a woman’s voice. He looked up, and saw another familiar blond.

[ ♫: <https://listenonrepeat.com/watch/?v=CAkCaVFb1lw> ]  
[grimoire of alice II – Duende (fromadistance)]

“Alice,” he said, pleasant in voice and expression, “I had been hoping to see you before the night ended. Sakuya mentioned you got in her way yesterday.”

“Yes, I got in all three of their ways,” she replied.

Alice Margatroid sat down at his right, and he saw that she was also carrying a cup of sake. Noticing his noticing, she said, “I also have a tokkuri,” lifting such a flask and chuckling.

“So why’d you fight the three of them?” he asked, and jumped slightly as he noticed a petal fall into his dish and float on top it. He relaxed considerably at the sight.

“I was merely having some fun, nothing more or less,” she said. “We youkai do love our fun.”

She looked over at the concert, and he followed her gaze. Someone had begun firing danmaku to light the trees and skies, and flowers were still scattering throughout. He looked over the dark and emptied grounds, petals all over it and glinting through the air still with the aid of Selene. The human village below lit fires to stave off the night, flickering distant in his sight. He put one foot over his other thigh, and smirked. It was indeed not as beautiful as what he had seen in the Netherworld, but it was still very, wholly, warmly wonderful.

“How’ve you been?” asked Alice. “I see you’ve gotten another injury? I’m sorry you had to carry the girls inside.”

“Shoulder definitely hurts,” was his reply.

“I have very good fingers, you know,” said Alice, wiggling said fingers beside him. “Would you like me to give your shoulder a massage?”

Gen looked at her, and naturally wanted to refuse outright, but decided on sighing through his nose with a closed simper worn on his face instead. “If you aren’t teasing me, please do,” he said, pulling off the top of his robe, unbuttoning his vest and shirt, removing his arm from his sleeve, and properly exposing his shoulder. “I’ve really not been treating this thing nicely over these last two days.”

“Alright,” said Alice, setting down her dish and getting up on her knees behind him. She pressed her fingertips into his body and he winced at once. “Don’t suck it up if it hurts, little apprentice. Tell me so I don’t end up making things worse.”

“Got it,” he replied.

And she got to work.

He was surprised to find that, despite initial discomfort, Alice seemed to actually know what she was doing. As if reading his thoughts, she told him, “This is only a soft tissue massage; anything more wouldn’t do you any good.”

“What favor do you want for this?” he asked.

“Hmm... how about...” she started, pressing her thumbs into the right base of his neck. She bent in toward him and smugly suggested, “a lock of your hair?”

“Absolutely, Miss Margatroid. Let me pledge my soul to you,” he said, his words soaked with sarcasm.

“I would actually like a lock of your hair,” she continued, “but only to experiment with voodoo.”

“Then please ask for something else,” he replied.

And she laughed.

She continued massaging him, removing stiffness and pain from his injury, the sensation like rivers of warmth and gentle relief running out from the pained area. His mouth squirming to the simple, clinical pleasure, he thought more seriously about how he might repay this at a later date. “So I overheard you talking with the vampire and shrine maiden;” Alice said eventually, “you intend to focus less on your power and more on your survivability, hm?”

“Eavesdropping...” he said.

“At an open party, it’s hard not to,” she replied, smoothly dragging the heels of her palm along his muscles and making him reflexively keep one eye shut.

“Well, yes: I’ve decided on trying more earnestly to save my skin from now on so this kind of thing doesn’t happen again,” he told her. “As my mermaid friend puts it: I need to be a magician who acts like a magician.”

“What a novel concept,” said Alice.

“And don’t you know all about novel concepts, playing with dolls through magic?” he quipped.

“You won’t ever miss that beat whenever we talk, will you?” she asked, rotating her fingers over the upper right of his back now. “Lift your arm, I’m thinking of rotating it.”

“Alright. Also no, Alice, I never ever will,” he answered, doing as instructed.

“So even as you learn better survivability skills, I can expect you to be as rude as your master, hm?” she noted, rotating his shoulder slowly and looking over his arm thoroughly, eyes distant.

“You’re looking so seriously,” he noted before reminding her, “but I’m not a puppet so don’t think you can gauge my wood grain from sight alone.”

“The _sass_ on this boy...” Alice whispered, grabbing both his upper and forearm while looking at him. “I’m still a youkai, Gen. Don’t whittle away my kindness.”

“Now it’s whittling, then?” he swiftly replied. “Only got wood-working on the brain?”

“As much as you have your unfriendly and airheaded Master on yours,” said Alice.

“Hey.”

“For an eye, I will take an eye,” said the youkai magician with a little grin. “By the way this really isn’t looking the best, you know? We magicians already have weak bodies as it is, so you shouldn’t be pushing yourself with physical demand and injurious danger so frequently. You’ll just break down.”

“Yeah, I’ll try... Why is it that so many people _aside_ from my Master tell me things like this?” he wondered aloud. “Takes her quite a bit to even acknowledge these sorts of faults...”

“Because the way your Master loves you is in how you impress her, Gen,” answered Alice in fact. “I’m surprised you haven’t gotten that.”

“Auh... Master... loves me...?”

“Now now, don’t be disgusting,” she chastised him, and he blushed as she kept at it.

And in time, she finished, the concert still ongoing. She sat beside him, and took up her dish. Looking at it, and him getting re-dressed, she proposed, “How about a toast?”

“Sure,” he said, slinging his arm once again and bringing up his cup after filling it. “What to?”

“To what else but magic? Cheers, Gen,” she lifted her cup and he touched his to hers.

“Cheers then,” he accepted, and they drank.

Alice took up the tokkuri between them and refilled their cups. “And to spring!” she declared.

“Cheers,” he said, and they drank again, Alice replenishing their dishes quickly.

“And of course, to the wonder of puppetry,” she announced next.

And they both clicked their cups and shouted “Cheers!” before downing their spirits. After, Gen realized what he had done, and realized he was likely drunk at this time.

“I’ve gotten you...” said Alice, hugging her knees close and pointing at him with her free hand. She snickered, and he laughed once, dryly.

“Well, haven’t you,” he said.

The trio at the edge of the woods announced their last song.

“Have I ever told you about the time I used a form of puppetry myself?” asked Gen.

“You... have not done that,” the senior magician answered.

“Then allow me to regale you... with the time I managed to topple the two greatest youkai exterminators in Gensokyo.”

“Oh...?”

“Yeah, I feel as if... it’ll be a little while before I have things as exciting as that in my life again,” he admitted. “Anyway, I had just finished shoveling snow from the shrine due to my Master using me as a bargaining chip, and Miss Reimu was getting very, very drunk...”

He told the story.

Alice told one of hers, and of her encounters with a certain flower youkai.

The party didn’t end with music, but began to wind down into a quiet atmosphere.

And soon enough, his first night so far away from the mansion in Gensokyo came to its peaceful end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I consider this the end of "Part 1" of the story, concluding Gen's "introduction" to Gensokyo and leaving with his beginning to stand on his own. A little bookend, once more with Alice; hope you liked it.
> 
> By the way. here's Wakasagihime's chosen song this time, Eddystone Light: [https://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AudKQdQ8ay0](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AudKQdQ8ay0)
> 
> This story will likely be updated either once a day or once every other day until it is caught up. There are currently 22 completed chapters as of this writing.


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